


We're All Heroes

by Sixninetween



Category: H2O Delirious - Fandom, H2OVanoss - Fandom, VanossGaming, youtube - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3677484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sixninetween/pseuds/Sixninetween
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan is a villain. A bad guy that steals and hurts the people around him. Some are born this way, others become corrupt. Then there is Evan. A hero. He protects the city and it's residents at all costs. After an unusual series of events unfold, will Jonathan learn to be good and confront his past? Or will he end up only hurting Evan in the end? Time will only tell what will happen when two enemies, the Night Owl and The Clown, work together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jonathan hoped he could fly. Flying was the only way out of this. Maybe he’d sprout big bird wings and soar high in the skies, high enough to see his parents up in heaven. It didn’t look so far away, really, from the angle his body was in. The skyscraper he was falling from didn’t appear to be there either. It was just a big grey blur. Everything moved slow and fast at the same time. His arms reached skywards, grabbing for something not in reach, while his body plummeted towards concrete. He’d be dead in maybe another few seconds; a big pile of gore and corruption splattered across the street. 

No one would miss a villain, right? 

In the few seconds of his freefall, his brain shot out images of what would happen after his death. Parties, celebration, newspaper articles stating that the beast had been slain by the great Night Owl; it was clear in his mind. It was all over. Everything he’d done, all the chaos he’d caused, would just simply be over. 

Well, that’s what Jonathan thought. A few tears slipped out when he felt arms suspend his body from its fall. They were strong arms, too, big and muscular. Those were the same arms that had pushed him off the building, weren’t they? The ones that shoved in pure rage right after he’d looked at that blank mask and whispered “I’m so tired” as the pistol he owned dropped to the ground. Why did the dumb pheasant suddenly get so upset? Sure they’ve fought before; nasty fights created bruises that lasted weeks and weeks. But, what ticked the arch nemesis off bad enough to try and kill him? Of course, it’s not like he would mind dying. The owl didn’t give him that satisfaction, though. He never finished him off. Even when Jonathan begged for it, even when he put the pistol to his villainous head and the hero had his finger on the trigger. 

And now the good guy has once again saved the bad guy from imminent death. That’s something you aren’t supposed to see. The norm would be Night Owl taking down The Clown. Maybe things don’t always go the way you’d expect them to, or maybe Jonathan is just lucky.

He didn’t even bother looking at the deep yellow rubbery eyes as the grappling hook slowly pulled them upwards. The mechanism was making a faint buzzing noise as it pulled the rope up that held the two dangling men. It was annoying to him, a hum that proved he had to be rescued by someone who hated his guts. How dishonorable. 

The two reached the top of the building quickly. It seemed to take forever to Jonathan, but Night Owl had become accustomed to his little toys. Toys, Jonathan internally scoffed. He grabbed the side of the rooftop and hoisted himself up, not bothering to move after the effort. With a groan, he landed on his back and stayed there, looking up at the creamy orange sky. “You know,” he mumbled, “it would have been better to let me go.” 

The masked man shook his head from where he stood, arms crossed against his chest. Just that remark made him want to throw the idiot off the building again. Of course, the outcome of the situation wouldn’t change, but it would still prove a point. “You’re probably right. I should’ve watched you hit the ground. Maybe it would get me a statue in the city’s park.” His words were muffled by the mask and the hero wanted nothing more than to take it off to breathe in some fresh air. 

The sunset was disappearing when Jonathan sat up. The owl still lingered, and was now lying on the concrete close by. Suddenly, the owl mask seemed very out of place. Why did he still wear it? Did he really think Jonathan would come and look for him or something? He wasn’t The Clown without the makeup. He was a normal guy in a stupid apartment with an Xbox that barely worked. His life was average, boring even, when he wasn’t on the run from Night Owl or the cops. 

A sore sounding voice interrupted his thoughts. “Why do you feel the need to be a bad person? To steal things and hurt people?” The owl’s head turned towards him and tilted with interest.  
Jonathan let out a giggle. “Why do you feel the need to save people? To save me?” He knew that question would probably cause the other to get up and walk off like always. Serious questions weren’t the hero’s forte. But, to Jonathan’s surprise, the man pulled up the mask a little to speak more clearly. It was the first time he ever saw part of his face, “Because I know you’re not all bad. I saw it when the pistol was to your head and I saw it again as you fell today. It’s like you want to die.” 

Jonathan bit his bottom lip, “Take it off.”

The hero’s mouth twitched upwards into a smirk. He shrugged, as if to say ‘if you say so,’ and tugged the mask off harshly. 

Jonathan gulped and a single thought ran through his head that made him want to throw himself back off the building. Oh no he’s hot. And, it was the honest truth. The guy’s jawline was sharp as a piece of glass, his hair was jet black and flipped up in a sexy, ridiculously messy way and to top it all off, his cheeks were dusted with a light pink hue. Everything about him was gorgeous. The way the dying sunset reflected off his dark eyes aimed at his stupid clown face made his palms sweaty and heart all fluttery. It was like walking by his high school crush again and it was absolutely fucking pathetic. 

And then, _and then_ , he ran his hand through his hair while smiling at the ground and it looked like one of those photographs illuminated on the wall in Hollister. That was enough to make Jonathan lose it all over again. God, why does fate make the only guy he’d want to bang, out of all the people in the world, his arch nemesis? It was cruel. No, actually, it was just his luck. Nothing good ever happened to him. 

Then, the now hot owl looked up and leaned against the side of the wall behind him. He was obviously trying to hide a smile, and wasn’t doing so well at it, because his lips ended up failing him and stretched into a big grin you’d want to stare at for hours. “Oh, and by the way, my name’s Evan.”


	2. Chapter 2

_Shit shit shit shit shit_. The alarm rang into his ears and made his skull vibrate. His sweaty hands clutched the bag of cash, four thousand dollars to be exact, that he had just stolen from the bank. Halfway through sneaking into the vault, The Clown had stupidly tripped an alarm wire. Now, police sirens could be heard in the distance and people flooded outside. The only way out was the front door. If the police were already there, he would surely be shot multiple times as soon as he poked his head out. He reached a shaky hand out and grabbed the door handle, dropping the bag of cash in case he had the chance to book it across the street.

“And where do you think you’re going?” A voice from above asked.

Jonathan looked behind him, then reluctantly up at the ceiling. Evan sat upon one of the rafters, his legs dangling off the side, looking rather comfortable. The owl mask seemed to disapprove of the robbery without Evan having to even say anything. “Well,” Jonathan said while rubbing the back of his neck, “I was going to try and get out of here, but now I think I’m going to jail.”

The owl let out a chuckle and pointed towards the front of the bank with his finger, “About eight police cars are parked out there. If you’re going to get out of here, it’s certainly not that way. Unless, of course, you want to get shot and die. You seem to not really care.”

_Why does he act like he knows me?_ The sweaty door handle was turned under Jonathan’s hand. Someone was coming in. Panic flooded through his body. He averted his gaze from Evan back to the door and took a step back.

“Hey dumbass, run!” Evan shouted and dropped down from the rafter, landing on his feet. “There’s a door in back.”

The bag of money tripped Jonathan as he bolted for the back of the bank. A million thoughts ran through his head as the doors swung open. Men with shotguns, pistols, and a few riot shields poured in, screaming. Then, everything was silent.

“Oh, Night Owl sir, thank god you showed up. Have you captured The Clown?” A man leading the others said.

That was all he heard before the cool air of summer and light of the dying sun greeted him.

Jonathan didn’t stop running until the bank was long gone and his legs burned from overuse. The stars had come out, along with the bright, luminescent moon. Everything was alright, besides the fact that the bag of cash was still back at the bank. He let out a low moan and rubbed his eyes, smearing the clown paint. Nothing felt right. Ever since the day he saw Night Owl’s face, everything changed. It was like he had stopped _wanting_ to be bad.

Fewer robberies meant less income, and less income meant no food and no apartment. He was kicked out over a week ago after the landlord found a loaded pistol under his doormat. He guessed the “Welcome Home, Bitch” gave it away. Now, being homeless and poor, the urge to rob and steal whatever he could should’ve increased.

But it hadn’t. In fact, most days, Jonathan just sat on rooftops and ate whatever he could find in trash cans that were still edible. He drank rainwater and soda cans found on the street. He envied anyone who could stop for a hot dog or grab a fresh water bottle from the fridge.

Sleep was also impossible. There was virtually nowhere to rest, and thank god it was summer because if it had been winter, Jonathan would’ve frozen to death. Every time his eyes fluttered closed, he’d awake minutes later. No rhyme or reason either-- no dreams that startled him or loud noises. It was like something was in the back of his mind, trying to claw its way out from a deep unconsciousness. Of course, in the process it destroyed the brain itself and made bright blue eyes sunken in and ribs poke out.

He walked slowly on the side of a street, an open field on his right. The outskirts were where golden fields of farmland took up most the space. It grew basic crops such as corn, wheat, and had at least a thousand apple trees that stretched from a small farmhouse and wrapped halfway around the city. That’s why he was here, to steal apples. That in itself was depressing. To lower himself down to stealing food was rock bottom.

When Jonathan finally reached the first apple tree, his mouth began to water at the thought of biting into a juicy apple. Apples would probably be the only thing he’d eat this week, anyways. One hung specifically low, so he reached out and plucked it, then turned back towards the street. There were no cars, no lights, only the moon reflecting off the red surface of the fruit he held. It was silent until the sound of footsteps interrupted his eating.

“This is bull. All of it,” the voice whispered. Jonathan realized it was Evan. He was walking down the road, hands shoved in his jean pockets. His red jacket had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He continued talking once he reached the first apple tree, causing Jonathan to lean back and hide in the shadows. “What a jerk. He couldn’t even find me afterwards?”

Then, Evan reached out and picked an apple from the tree, taking a big bite. This shocked Jonathan. He just stole, right? That wasn’t his job; it was the villain’s, the one who causes chaos and destruction, not the one who stops it. _This isn’t fair. He can have anything he wants. With his fame, even though his identity is hidden, his gear shows that money isn’t an issue._

Angry, Jonathan tossed the apple core to the ground. It made a quiet thump as it rolled across the dewy grass and stopped right in front of Evan’s boot. The man raised an eyebrow and looked out into the field. “Hello?”

Jonathan pulled his pistol from his boot and stood up quickly, causing Evan to jump back, eyes going wide. He kept the gun on his enemy, not breaking eye contact.

“You look so tired,” Evan whispered while crossing his arms over his chest. His face turned to genuine worry and it made Jonathan’s chest catch on fire.

“Yeah, that’s what no sleep does to you. Do you want to do me a favor and not try to run or pull any shit? I want to get back to the city before sunrise.”

The man took a step closer, uncrossing his arms and furrowing his brows. “Don’t you mean get home?”

With a giggle, Jonathan tipped his head back. The stars were still shining brightly, but the moon was low. Sunrise would come soon and if he walked back into the city with his clown makeup, there was no doubt someone would call the cops. He was simply too tired to run anymore. “No. I don’t have a home. If I got that bag of cash, I probably could be out renting another apartment or eating breakfast.” He lifted the pistol more and laid a finger on the trigger. “Now go away, please.”

Evan raised his hands up and took a step back. “Well, you probably won’t last long in the situation you’re in. The last time you wore that sweatshirt it actually fit you, now it looks three sizes too big. A bad guy can’t do his job looking like a toothpick.” Suddenly, he reached a hand out, grabbing the muzzle of the pistol, aiming it down at the ground. “Come home with me?”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh I wonder how much Jonathan will eat from Evan's fridge next chapter (you can safely guess a lot). Anyways, thank you for all the kudos and positive feedback! I've been getting my laptop fixed for a while, so it took a long time to write this chapter. The next one is already done, so I'll wait a few days to post it.


	3. Chapter 3

Evan’s house was quiet and blue. The smell of hamburgers filled the room up to the brim, masking the scent of the hero’s sweet cologne. Jonathan ate up two hamburgers in minutes, and then refused a third when he was offered, because if the meat was laced with drugs he didn’t want to die.

“So,” Evan said sliding into the spinning chair at the counter, “Why exactly do you feel the need to be bad?” The man nonchalantly sipped a glass of milk, like the question he asked wasn’t a big deal.

Jonathan huffed, wiping his ketchup stained mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Why do you feel the need to be good?”

With a sheepish grin, Evan put his glass down. The milk bubbled up for a second, and then popped as the liquid settled. It reminded Jonathan of blood. “Because there are people like you. You hurt others and steal, then end up kicking the bucket because you can’t take fucking care of yourself.”

Rain began to patter against the window. A storm was coming, a big one. Jonathan hated thunder, so he involuntarily began to shake in the wooden chair. “So why not get rid of your biggest problem and let me die?”

“Because you have a chance.”

The sun broke out after Jonathan helped wash the dishes. The rain continued to pour, now slamming on the glass more than tapping, and brought thunder along with it. Evan offered a place on the couch, which Jonathan gratefully accepted.

Just when he was getting settled on the leather cushions, a flash of lightning and crackle of thunder made him let out a small whimper. Evan, who was grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen, heard it and laughed. “Scared of thunder?”

“Oh, no, it’s just that-” Jonathan’s voice trailed off. His brain was struggling to come up with an explanation that didn’t make him look like a coward.

Suddenly, the weight shifted on the couch as Evan sat down across from him. “I used to be afraid of thunder when I was little. It’s okay to be scared. Even, when you’re supposed to be a tough convict who doesn’t stop for anyone. Don’t you want to live a normal life?”

Jonathan shot Evan an annoyed glance. “I’ve never been a hero.”

“You could start whenever you’d like.”

Anger boiled up from Jonathan’s nauseous stomach. There was no way to explain how he felt to a guy that was supposed to kill him. His past was his own secret, and that was that. “No. Do me a favor and stop acting like you know me. The only thing you know is the way I look with a knife to my throat, or how I react when you let me run off with something stolen for the hundredth time. It’s like you want me to pay you back, but I can’t. I have nothing to give.”

The couch shifted again as Evan sat up straighter, bringing his legs up onto the couch and crossing them, then facing Jonathan completely. The owlish gaze he held made the other shiver. “I want to tell you something important. There are people in this world with absolutely nothing. No clothes on their back, no food in their stomachs, no family to look back to, zero will to live. These people have been on the news for doing something great, like saving a woman in an alley from getting raped, or running into a burning building to save someone’s pet. Don’t you get it? You don’t need to be great to help others. You just need to do _something_.”

And with that he got up and walked away, leaving Jonathan to think.

In the morning, he left. All of it was too much to handle. He left a sticky note with the words _see you after another crime_. It was the truth, after all. He probably wouldn’t see Evan for a few days, maybe a week. That’s usually how the routine went. Crime equals hero coming to the rescue, but after crime comes resting time for the villain. Or revaluation of life choices time, in Jonathan’s case.

The streets were still wet and sticky from the rain, and the looming clouds above the city didn’t show any signs of a sunny day. He wasn’t surprised when the harsh rain came down again, soaking his clothes and making his teeth chatter. The clown makeup had long since been washed away, making it safe to keep walking down York Street without being arrested.

It was silent except for the occasionally car, unusual for a Saturday morning. Maybe there was a hurricane watch that Jonathan didn’t hear about, but it didn’t matter now. He was out in the storm and there was nowhere else to go. Stopping for a second, he heard a noise that was unnoticeable with his loud, splashing footsteps. It was the sound of distant screams.

Two hours. It took two hours to track down the yells and small crashing sounds. When Jonathan arrived in the city, he saw it. Two busses overturned, six rain drenched bodies lying on the ground, a crowd of people wailing. _What happened?_

“Oh so you showed up,” a voice said from next to him.

Jonathan turned quickly, letting out a gasp. A man stood in front of him, wearing a bloody pig mask. It looked absolutely terrifying with the wild eyes behind it peering at him like the whole situation was comical. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Who are you?” Jonathan choked. His mouth was dry and vomit crept up the back of his throat.

“I’m a you, a bad guy. I just so happen to be a little more deadly-bigger guns, bigger ego, bigger plans for the city than robbing banks with an unloaded pistol-and definitely a better name than The Clown.”

Jonathan’s eyes scanned the man’s body. He held a gory, wooden baseball bat, and at his feet was a large machine gun. Bad guy and deadly seemed to fit him perfectly. “And now what are you going to do?”

The man shrugged, his shoulders brushing up against the sagging cheeks of the mask, “Probably kill you. I really want my picture on the most wanted poster, but you’re getting in the way of that.” Then, he raised the bat up until it was behind him and swung it against Jonathan’s stomach, leaving little time for him to even process what was happening. The impact took the air from his chest and sent his body flying onto the street.

And the pig was above him in seconds, chuckling as he raised the bat above his head, and let it smash down onto Jonathan’s leg. This happened again, and again. There were tears in Jonathan’s eyes as he writhed in pain, attempting to get up, or kick the man, but to no prevail. The fourth time the bat came down, it landed on his head. His vision blurred immediately and his ears rang. Expecting another blow, Jonathan put his hands up in defense, but the bat never came. He sat up, almost passing out in the process, and looked up to see Evan standing in front of him, owl mask glistening in the now sprinkling rain.

“And who do you think you are?” Night Owl asked as he took a black and yellow combat pistol from his belt.

“I’m Wildcat, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Wildcat dropped the bat and quickly picked up the machine gun. Night Owl raised his pistol and the two aimed for each other’s heads.

“Drop it, asshole,” Night Owl growled and took a step back. His leg brushed up against Jonathan’s foot, who was still sitting on the ground.

Blood mixed with the rain water and rushed off of his arm. Wooden splinters stuck out from the tear in his sweatshirt and that’s when Jonathan realized that the bat had almost snapped in half. Pain was scorching his body, starting for his left leg and spreading through his abdomen, then up to his head. Vision still a little fuzzy, he attempted to get to his feet, but fell right back down. And here he was, a defenseless animal in his enemies’ care once again.

“I will as soon as you move and let me shoot the half-dead dirtbag behind you. Let me finish what I started. It’ll be better for the both of us in the long run.” Wildcat looked directly at Jonathan, then back to the pistol in front of him.

The machine gun began to lower for a brief second, probably because of how heavy it was in the man’s shaky hands, and Evan saw his chance. He took the pistol and whipped it across Wildcat’s face, sending blood spewing from his mouth. The machine gun dropped, and Wildcat was running the other way in seconds, gripping his chin. Everything was silent again, except for the sound of quiet footsteps as people began to walk towards their shot friends or loved ones, lying on the ground. Some began to cry, others tried to offer comfort. Jonathan saw a small girl walk up to what appeared to be her mother, then sit down next to her, taking the limp hand in hers and letting out silent sobs.

Evan turned around slowly, looking down with his mask and reached out a hand. Jonathan took it and was slowly lifted to his feet. He was careful not to put any weight on his aching leg. Once he stood up straight, a pain shot through his stomach, and he almost fell back down again. But, Evan’s arms held him up. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier. I’m so sorry I let you get hurt,” Evan whispered behind his mask. “I let you and these people get hurt.”

“So did I,” Jonathan muttered.

Evan was stopped by a short, chubby man with a red face. His voice was rough and angry, but sounded distraught. “Why weren’t you here? Why didn’t you save these people?” He pointed a finger directly at the owl’s beak, “My wife is dead because of you.”

“Wrong,” Jonathan shifted out of Evan’s arms and limped over to come face to face with the man, “Your wife is dead because of a bullet that came from Wildcat’s gun. You want to blame someone? Blame the one who shot her first, then blame time for being against you.”

The man stomped away, hiding the tears that fell on his cheek. He rested a hand on the small girl’s shoulder and whispered something Jonathan could not hear.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! There's another villain in the city! Hope you enjoyed <3


	4. Chapter 4

By the time they got home, Evan wasn't right. Jonathan first noticed his uneven breathing as soon as the door opened, then saw the man practically throw himself into the wall. He ripped the owl mask off and threw it on the floor, unusually reckless seeing the aluminum tiles were streaked with muddy footprints from them both.

Jonathan’s head was still throbbing in time with his stomach as he limped over to Evan, who was now gripping the kitchen counter. “Evan,” Jonathan said sternly, gripping his side as another sharp pain ripped upwards, traveling all the way to his chest.

No reply. Evan continued gasping, not looking up. “Evan,” he repeated.

Irritated, Jonathan grabbed Evan’s chin and roughly pulled it towards him. “Oh.” Jonathan’s heart dropped when he saw Evan’s face. It was tear stained and a bright blotchy red. His dark eyes were frantic and narrowed, closing occasionally with each raspy inhale.

It suddenly dawned on Jonathan that Evan was having a panic attack. A really, really, bad one.

He released his face and flinched at how hard Evan turned away. Jonathan bit his bottom lip. He didn’t know what to do. The last time he had a panic attack was a long time ago. His mother had calmed him down with a long hug. Evan didn’t look like he wanted a hug.

“I’m fine,” Evan panted, “I’m okay.”

That was a lie. “No. I don’t think you are. Come sit down on the couch before you faint, please.”

Evan didn’t seem to have the energy to resist. He sat down on the couch quickly, hands gripping his knees. Jonathan followed, feeling more nervous than when he was falling from an incredibly tall skyscraper. Which is saying something because falling from a building usually gives people heart attacks.

He plopped down on the table in front of the hysterical hero. “You have to breathe.”

Evan looked up, hair stuck to his forehead from all the sweat. His eyes looked straight ahead. It was like he was awake, but not seeing anything. The pupils started shifting quickly around the room, then Evan closed his eyes tight again.  “Can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You’ve done it for twenty-three years. Please, just suck in a big breath and I’ll count as you exhale.” Now that’s something Jonathan had read before. In the past, at a doctor’s office, in a tiny pamphlet; good thing he picked it up.

Jonathan watched Evan take a deep breath, almost losing it as his chest convulsed. “Alright, good. Now start letting it go.”

Evan did as he told, slowly letting the breath out.

“1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . .”

Evan opened his eyes up and looked at Jonathan, who kept counting aloud.

“4 . . . 5 . . . . 6 . . .”

The fear drained from his eyes in the form of tears. Color started replacing the red splotches with each number. He did not break eye contact.

“7 .  . . 8 . . . .  9 . . .”

Jonathan felt odd. It wasn’t anger that boiled in his stomach or fear or anything he usually felt when Evan looked at him. He didn’t know what it was. It was unknown and scary enough that his face was hot as he felt Evan’s breath hit his lips.

“10.”

And then Evan leaned back into the couch. His head was tilted up towards the high ceiling. The way his chest slowly rose and sunk was enough to make Jonathan smile despite the uneasy feeling that had settled in the room.

He had no idea what to say and that was strange because Jonathan didn’t have a filter so he usually said the first thing that popped in his mind. But, something was different – different enough to leave an echo far away in his brain so that when it finally reached him, the sound was too muffled to make out. Maybe it was the way he’d changed.

When was the last time he committed a crime? The thought made a familiar itch reappear. It was the itch to rob or steal, hurt, do something wrong. Then, he looked at Evan – who had shifted on his side and laid his head on the armrest – sleeping soundly, and the itch was gone.

Jonathan watched Evan for a while as he slept. The way he let out slow, small breaths was hypnotizing. Every thirty minutes or so, his eyes would flutter open, only to shut moments later. After an hour, Jonathan grabbed the plaid blanket from underneath the table and laid it down over the sleeping man, and decided to do some exploring around the house. He hadn’t seen the other rooms, only the bathroom once because he drank three glasses of water after Evan told him to come home with him.

_“Home,”_ Jonathan whispered as he crept behind the couch into the long hallway that certainly led to a bedroom. He was hesitant to open the door at first, only because it felt like an invasion. So, he lingered outside the door for a few moments before opening it, startled by the loud squeak the hinges made.

The room was red. The comforter was red. The wardrobe was a deep red. The only thing not red was the wood floors and white wardrobe. It was strangely clean for a mid-twenties boy’s room. But, Jonathan guessed it was normal for a superhero that was never really home. The wood floors creaked under his weight as he walked over to the wardrobe and swung the doors open, interested in what clothes Evan wore. He wasn’t greeted by clothes or shoes, only by a single computer screen lit up on the wall.

_Welcome. Please type in your passcode below for access._

“What the hell?” Jonathan muttered. The screen brought up a keyboard with blinking numbers and letters. He bit the inside of his cheek. Guessing the password could mean one of three things.

_One_ , he could magically guess the right one and see what Evan was hiding.

_Two_ , he could put in the wrong password and set off some kind of alarm.

Or _three_ , the computer would scan his fingerprint as soon as he pressed a button and inject some deadly poison into his bloodstream.

The odds were against him. Definitely against him, but when haven’t they been? With a smirk, he put his finger on the letter “v.” There was no reason to even press that specific letter, but hope surged through him when the letter was green. Green meant good. He hovered his finger over the letter “c” which was right next to it, but a loud ringing interrupted him.

Jonathan’s eyes frantically darted around the room. He narrowed his vision on the cell phone lit up on the bed. _Shit!_ Seconds later, there were footsteps down the hallway.

Where was there a place to hide? This room was almost empty besides a bed. He walked towards the door and almost screamed when he saw Evan’s shadow. Without thinking, he let himself drop to the floor and combat rolled under the bed.

Evan walked in the room, the blanket still wrapped around him. Jonathan had to shake the thought of his black hair formed into the perfect bedhead because this was a time to panic and not a time to get turned on.

“Hello?” Evan groggily answered the phone.

Jonathan heard a muffled voice coming from the other end.

“Yeah, yeah, I saw him. I hit him, actually. No! Not a punch, you dumbass, with my gun.”

They were talking about Wildcat.

“Two days? Alright, fine. Listen, I have to tell you something. He’s in my house. He has been for like three days.”

Jonathan frowned when he heard a loud, angry scream from whoever Evan was talking to.

“I trust him! He trusts me, too, I think. You know what happened. The article explained it. When he was just a little kid, with his sister? Yeah, the drowning.”

The world went blank for a couple moments. White noise filled his ears because, honestly, he didn’t want to hear the rest.

He knew the ending.

Tears burned the corners of his eyes. By the time Evan put the phone down, Jonathan was sobbing silently under the bed, his body twisting and contorting with pain. He brought his knees to his chest and pushed the memory so far back into his mind that the only coherent thought he could make were two words: _My fault._

Evan left the room and seemed to return to the couch, turning on the television and munching on some crunchy snack, leaving Jonathan alone to scream into the pillows of the untouched bed.

And, mistakenly, he collapsed on the bed almost an hour later and fell asleep in seconds. The crying fit had taken all the energy out of him.

When Jonathan opened his eyes, he immediately groaned in pain. The ache in his stomach had doubled, so he took off his hoodie and shirt to check it out. A dark purple bruise spread from his belly button, all the way to the bottom of his ribcage. Another bruise started on his arm, where the bat almost broke, and left tiny wood splinters underneath the broken skin. He plucked a few out, wincing when he had to dig his finger into a small open gash to get the biggest splinter.

The door was cracked open, unlike how it was left last night. Evan had been here. That meant he saw Jonathan passed out, drooling on the red bedsheet with tear stained cheeks, which led him to wonder if this was the day he was going to get kicked out. Being back on the streets would probably mean the death of him at this point. Surely Wildcat would get another baseball bat, maybe steel, to finish the job. And the Night Owl would no longer have to worry his pretty little head about The Clown coming back. Evan would be so much happier, so much better off.

Then, the door swung open so hard it bounced off against the red wall. Evan strolled in, a plate in his hand and beautifully low sweatpants hanging on his hips. And here Jonathan was, a pale mess sprawled out on the bed, gripping his chest because the door scared the absolute shit out of him.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, you got blood on my sheets,” Evan smirked and reached up to try and tame the gorgeously wild bedhead with his fingers.

Jonathan giggled, looking around. “Not that you can tell with all this red around us.”

Evan huffed and threw the plate onto the bed. A delicious omelet presented itself with melted cheese and diced peppers.

“So you can cook? Might as well make you my wife already,” Jonathan laughed.

Evan shrugged, “Maybe someday. Now get your ass up. We have a long day ahead of us. And the shower is around the corner. You stink like blood and cheap cologne.”

“Bitch,” Jonathan muttered through a mouthful.

A day that started off like this had to be a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kudos and positive feedback! Hope I'm making things a lil bit more in character for the both of them. Poor Jon with his sister and listening to weird phone calls ( to who? ;D ) and now training! Anyways, hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5

There was no way that Jonathan was going out to run “errands” with Evan. He was a villain and even without the stupid clown makeup splattered across his face, people would surely recognize him. What if a police man strolling through the city just so happened to look in the passenger window? He’d be done for and jailed. Evan couldn’t protect him, for he wasn’t the Night Owl without the mask and black suit.

Why did Evan even protect him in the first place? The whole situation was ridiculous. Jonathan tried to kill the hero multiple times in the past. There should be no reason for Evan to feel the need to help Jonathan out. Then again, his past could contribute to some guilt from the man.

“Well,” Evan said as he dangled the car keys in his hand, “Either you come with me or get stuck inside all day long without me.”

Jonathan threw Evan a smirk from his place on the couch. “Oh, it’s so hard to be without you for a few hours. I’d rather stay here, snuggled up into these blankets.”  

“You don’t really have a choice, Jon.”

If Evan hadn’t called Jonathan by a nickname, he probably wouldn’t have agreed to go.

The car sitting in the driveway was sure to draw unwanted attention. A glossy red Dodge Challenger would make any normal person stare. Jonathan walked around to the passenger side, noticing two white stripes on the hood. The inside was black leather. “Huh, where’d you get this?” Jonathan asked.

Evan revved the engine a couple times before driving onto the street. “From my dad on my twentieth birthday, it was a pile of rotted junk when I first got it. I did some repairs.”

Jonathan nodded, humming to the quiet rock music playing from the stereo. He looked out the tinted windows, enjoying the view of the tall buildings. There was one he recognized immediately - it was the one he fell from, the one where Evan took his mask off on the roof. That was the day the real craziness began.

“Okay. First we’re going to the supermarket. We’ve been eating nasty ass burgers for way too long. If you want to stay in the car, I understand. I would really like it if you came in with me, though,” Evan said as he parked the car in front of a large building. People rushed in and out, carrying bags or pushing carriages. Most had phones up to their ears, completely ignoring the hundreds of others around them.

That was good that everyone seemed distracted. “Yeah, I’ll come. Let me get a separate carriage to help you out.”

The two walked into the store. Jonathan grabbed a carriage along with Evan and the then they headed their separate ways. Jonathan slowly pushed the squeaky shopping cart towards the frozen aisle. People crowded around him, but he tried his best to ignore them. They were too occupied by screaming children or texting to even look around.

What did he have to get again? Steaks and what else? His mind blanked as soon as he picked up the packaged meat and threw it in the cart. “Guess I’ll have to go find Evan,” Jonathan sighed and walked towards the middle of the store.

The card section caught his eye and drew him to take the hard left into the aisle. There were neon cards covering the shelf, plus an adorable teddy bear hanging on one the racks. He picked it up, smiling at the way the tan fur felt so soft. Its big brown eyes reminded him of Evan.

Jonathan continued looking through the store, placing a few things in the cart here and there that seemed necessary to buy. He got tripped up on what kind of soap to get more than anything because of the large selection. A woman with a little boy saw his dilemma and pointed towards a blue bar, stating that it was the one her husband used. Jonathan smiled, leaving the aisle only to crash into another cart.

“So, how’s it going?” Evan grinned.

“Bitch, I’m the master shopper. I reclaimed the title of the wife now!”

Evan shook his head, watching how the woman who recommended the soap eyed them while chuckling. “Alright, take it. I’ll be the man of this relationship. Did you get the chicken?”

Oh, shit, that was what he forgot.

They checked out and headed to the car. Jonathan noticed Evan holding a bag extra close to his chest, making sure that he couldn’t see the contents inside.

“Where are we going now?” Jonathan asked once they got back on the main road.

Evan tapped on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the music. “I got to run into the police station and ask for updates about Wildcat.”

“What about your mask and suit and the whole ‘secret’ identity thing?”

“It’s in back; I’ll change behind the building. Want to come in?”

Jonathan laughed, looking out the window. He wished he could walk in there by the Night Owl’s side and be seen as a trusty sidekick, but every cop inside would be pointing their guns in five seconds flat.

“I brought along a spare mask. It’s kind of silly, but it works. You got to think of a name, though.”

 Evan opened up the trunk and pulled a duffle bag out along with another smaller backpack. He handed the backpack to Jonathan, who unzipped it curiously. Inside was a plastic raccoon mask. The eyes were cut out and a stretchy band wrapped around the back. “A raccoon, huh, like batman, but with a different animal.” Jonathan slipped the mask on, securing the back of it quickly then looking at the owl mask with a smile hidden by the long snout. “I am Batcoon!”

Shaking his head, Evan walked towards the back of the station. “Good enough, I guess.”

Jonathan zipped up the blue jacket, which was now clean and bloodless. The mask sat comfortably on his face. It felt secure as he walked towards the double doors, peering inside at the few officers lazily sipping coffee at a round table. One of them looked familiar. “Ah, that’s the one who busted the bank door open,” Jonathan muttered to the glass.

“Ready?” Evan said as he rounded the corner.

To be completely honest, Jonathan didn’t like seeing him as the Night Owl. The outfit brought back bad memories of falling from high places and stealing money. The rubbery yellow eyes reminded him of being the terrible person he used to be not too long ago. A fire started up in his chest, scorching the feeling away. He wasn’t The Clown anymore. And he’d never be the villain again. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Both of the masked men opened the doors simultaneously, grabbing the attention of the police men who jolted from their seats. “Ah, Night Owl, what good timing for you to show,” the man said as he walked towards Evan.

A smaller man pushed his way to the front of the crowded officers. “Who’s that with you?” His eyes searched the raccoon mask nervously.

“Jack, Timothy, Victor, this is a new hero in the city. He calls himself Batcoon,” the owl announced.

Jonathan figured it was his turn to speak. “Nice to meet you guys.”

Jack took a step towards Jonathan, who sighed in relief when the man smiled widely. “Well, Batcoon, it’s great to see a new hero in the city with Wildcat running lose! We’ll put you in the files right away, go on Tim.”

The small man walked into a separate room filled with desktops. Jonathan huffed. He wasn’t a hero. He’d never be a hero. He was somewhere stuck in between.

“Yes, he’s a good one,” Evan said, “Has Wildcat done anything else recently? Have you figured out any identity matches yet?”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. An anxious look had settled across his chubby face. “Sadly, we lost three more officers yesterday. It was a typical store robbery and all of a sudden a van pulled up outside. Turns out the whole robbery was a setup for something bigger. Wildcat ran in and took em’ out like they were nothing. He took the money, too. We have no identity matches because of that damn pig mask. Let’s pray that nothing else big happens like the other day, in the city. Are you aware there are reports that The Clown got killed by Wildcat? Someone saw him get beaten to death with a baseball bat.”

“Wow. I’m sorry for your losses. But, no, I did not hear about The Clown dying,” Evan talked quietly, letting his voice get muffled by the mask.

All the officers in the room had grins on their face as Jack raised his cup of coffee, “Good riddance to the bastard!”

“Well, keep me updated. Have a good evening,” Evan muttered as he walked outside.

Jonathan followed, ripping the mask off as soon as he got to the car. Tears streamed down his face, which was red with anger. No one wanted him. Everyone in this city wanted him dead because he caused so much pain and trouble wherever he went. All the people he’d ever known or loved had left. It wouldn’t be long until Evan did, too. Then, he’d be alone again. Maybe Wildcat would even come and finish the long overdue job afterwards.

“I’m so sorry, Jonathan. I didn’t think. . .” Evan began as soon as he got into driver’s seat.

“You didn’t think?” Jonathan interrupted. “Of course you didn’t, because if you did you would have known what they’d say. Do you think I want to fucking hear that shit? I know who I am. I know people want me gone. I know even you want me dead! I fucking hate myself so much. Please, just let me be gone!” He was yelling so loud that his ears rang.

Evan reached over slowly and grabbed Jonathan’s hand, intertwining their fingers together. Jonathan sighed, looking over at the man. His brown eyes were wide and sorrowful, but he was still wearing the suit. The mask had been disregarded in the back seat. What if the cops looked outside? They’d be able to completely see his side profile.

“Your mask . . . Your mask,” Jonathan gulped in a big breath to try and speak better, but it only resulted in a hiccup.

“Yeah, I don’t care, because I want you to see me right now. You did this for me when I was having a panic attack. No one has ever done that for me before. If you weren’t there, I would’ve probably been gasping for hours and hours, like usual. You calmed me down in minutes. Don’t ever think that I want you gone, don’t ever even say that kind of shit again.”

Jonathan used his free hand to wipe his face. “I overheard you talking on the phone with someone that night. And you mentioned. . .” It hurt so much. His chest closed up even more as soon as the word threatened to leave his mouth. The last time he’d even talked about her was more than five years ago. That was only a few days after the incident, too, in front of a couple police offers who poured the guilt onto him like the water she’d died in. They drowned him just like her with the idea that it was his entire fault. That she could’ve been easily saved.

Evan leaned in closer so he could speak softer and still be heard. “Your sister?”

He nodded slowly. Tears began to spill again with no way for Jonathan to stop them. The color drained from his face and goosebumps raised. Everything that he’s ever done, all the crimes, was because of her. They were all for her to see that if his family made him out to be the villain, he’d be the best fucking villain they’d ever seen.

The car started up and Evan drove through the city, still holding Jonathan’s hand as he sobbed until there were no tears left.

They both brought the few bags of groceries into the house in silence. Evan ended up putting them away into the cabinets and freezer, leaving Jonathan to strip his hoodie and cuddle up on the couch. The blanket felt warm against his cold skin as he pulled it over his head. It felt nice to block out everything for a few moments, enjoying the sounds of the cars passing by outside and the rain pattering against the windows. Suddenly, the couch creaked and shifted with added weight. Jonathan sat up, letting the blanket pool at his lap.

Evan sat there, holding something behind his back. “I wanted to get you this because of all you’ve done for me and plus I saw you looking at it. I was kind of rolling by, looking for some stuff.” He pulled out the teddy bear from the card aisle, placing it on the couch in between them.

Jonathan smiled and picked it up. The fur still felt just as soft. The eyes were just as bright, too, and with Evan so close it was easier to see the resemblance. “Thank you, Evan. I really like it.”

“So what’s its name?” Evan asked.

He would’ve named it after Evan, of course, because the eyes. But, that might seem strange. “Hmm, I’m thinking Teddy, cause’ he’s a bear.”

Evan laughed, “Oh my god, you’re so innocent. Teddy it is, then.”

_Click._

A sound of a gun being cocked echoed in the room.

Wildcat emerged from the bedroom hallway, holding up a pistol. Evan tensed, leaning over to shield Jonathan immediately.

“Aw,” Wildcat sneered, “Protecting your boyfriend? Cute as hell, I have to admit, but you should really just let me finish the job.”

“Over my dead body,” Evan clenched his fists and stood up, keeping his hand rested against Jonathan’s chest.

Wildcat grinned, the pig mask tilting to the left. “You won’t have to worry about that. I’m here to kill you both this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, the pig is back. Hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much for the kudos <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big surprise this chapter! Thank you for all the comments+kudos, both are greatly appreciated! 
> 
> Side Note: If you wanna listen to some cool music that loosely describes the story, I've found a few!  
> Feel Again // One Republic  
> Red Hands // Walk off the Earth (good Jon song!)  
> Burn it up All Night // Sweet Talkers  
> Milk // Sea Oleena  
> Muse // OCAD (very sexy song)  
> Mercy // Hurts  
> I'm So Sorry // Imagine Dragons  
> Stars (Hold On) // Youngblood Hawke  
> Flickers (Zeds Dead Remix) // Son Lux

The pistol stayed pointed at Evan’s face as Wildcat took a few steps closer. Evan wouldn’t take his hand off Jonathan, even as he pleaded for the hero to move out the way. He would much rather get shot. There was no reason to protect him at this point. There was no quick escaping or pistol-whipping to be done. It was over. And he’d do everything in his power to protect Evan.

“How did you find us?” Evan asked.

Wildcat rolled his eyes, laughing. That’s when Jonathan saw it. The shine of glass against the pig’s blue eyes. He was wearing glasses. The lenses were reflecting the light of the hanging lamp above them. They were almost unnoticeable behind the mask. But, now that Jonathan saw them, he knew what would be the most logical thing to do. “You don’t think I followed you home after the whole bat incident? Come on, I hope you know I’m smarter than that! I have to admit that this is a nice place you’ve got here, Evan. Has little Jonathan gotten into the system yet?”

The memory of trying to get into the password protected computer the previous night came back easily. “What system?” Jonathan asked as he looked up at Evan. He knew that the first letter to type in was a “V,” but that’s it. He had no idea what happened after the password was correctly entered.  

Evan bit his bottom lip. He looked nervous. “No. He hasn’t. I won’t let him.”

“Uh oh, Evan, you have some explaining to do. Why don’t you tell Jon the truth? Why don’t you tell him who you are?” Wildcat chuckled and glanced towards the bedroom.

When Evan didn’t answer, Wildcat laughed even harder. “Why don’t you tell him what you did?”

Confused, Jonathan stood up behind Evan. This wasn’t making any sense. Was Wildcat joking? Did they know each other? “What is he talking about?” His voice came out a whisper, the nerves building up felt like they were strangling his windpipe and dragging the air from his lungs.

“He doesn’t know anything!” Evan screamed. He tore away from Jonathan and rushed towards Wildcat, stopping when the muzzle of the pistol pressed against his chest. “What did you see? What did you take?”

Wildcat sighed and raised his free hand up to his mouth, pretending to zip his mouth shut. “My lips are sealed. I don’t think you understand that I want to watch you bleed, Evan. But, before that happens, I want to see your world fall apart. I want to see you fall apart and be left broken, unfixable. You care about him so much. Now, for me to not pull this trigger, you turn the fuck around and look him in the eyes and fucking tell him. Tell him what you did. Tell him why you never locked him up, put him behind bars, and saved him every chance you got.” Wildcat leaned closer to Evan so that his mouth was right by his ear. “Tell him what has eaten away at you for five years.”

There were tears in Evan’s eyes as he turned around slowly, facing Jonathan. His bottom lip quivered as a quiet sob racked through his body, making his breaths uneven. “Promise me you won’t be angry, please,” he choked.

Jonathan found it hard to reply with the tightness in his chest. Something bad was about to happen. There had been a secret kept from him. He refused to think for a few seconds, keeping his focus on Evan, who’s eyes were silently begging. Begging for what was the question that kept Jonathan terrified. “I promise.”

Evan looked at the ground and closed his eyes tight as if he was wishing this moment to be over. “There was a robbery and I was chasing them by the river, making sure that they didn’t try to throw their guns in, or something, to get rid of the evidence. I was running really fast and there was this little girl leaning in to try and grab something off the surface of the water. And. . . I ran into her. She fell in. I didn’t turn around. I don’t know why I didn’t fucking turn around. I just kept going.”

Everything went white for a second, just like the night underneath the bed. Shock and anger and hatred consumed Jonathan. It stopped the process of rational thinking. It stopped the pain and hurt from flooding into every single crack in his soul. And then thin glass that made up his entire existence shattered into a million pieces. Which was the worse thing possible because glass cannot be put back together again. Even if someone takes the time to glue every single piece, the cracks will still show. Nothing will ever be okay again because Evan killed Erin.

Taking a step forward, Evan opened up his eyes and looked at Jonathan, who stood there frozen in place. “Jonathan? Please say something.”

“Do you know what happened? Do you know what you caused?” Jonathan was surprised to be able to talk to clearly, as if nothing was wrong. As if this whole situation was one big movie and his best friend had’t murdered his sister. “I found Erin face down in the water. The cops came, my parents came, the whole damn city was staring at my dead sister through a fucking television. My father came up to me and put his hand on my shoulder. He looked straight into my eyes and told me that her death was my fault. The cops came over and told my mother that it was likely I had drowned her. I never went to the trial or the funeral. Do you know what I did that next week?”

Evan shook his head.

“I bought face paint,” Jonathan smiled. It faded quickly as wet tears poured from his eyes. “And I realized that I made a better bad guy than a brother.”

Wildcat clapped behind the two, “Alright! That’s a wrap! I love seeing people die in pain like this. Which one is first?” He raised the pistol up and pointed it at Evan’s back.

Jonathan grinned. “After I saw the little girl’s mother you killed, pig boy, it made me think back to Erin. Everything’s about to come full circle in my fucked up life.” Jonathan walked towards Wildcat, not caring about the gun aimed at his face. There was no reason to care anymore.

“Take a step back there, Clown,” Wildcat said.

With one thorough and quick movement, Jonathan was grabbing Wildcat’s wrist as hard as he could, then slamming it against the wall next to them. He leaned close, using his free hand to reach inside the mask and pull the glasses out. They were crushed instantly in his palm and Jonathan liked the feeling of the glass piercing his skin because it meant he could still _feel_. “You know what? I’m so fucking delirious right now, that it made me realize that it wasn’t Evan’s fault. He didn’t mean it. When you kill people, you’re the one to take their lives away. In Erin’s case, it was water. And nothing pisses me off more than seeing death ruin someones life. Which is unfortunate for you, because now I feel like ripping a pig apart.”

Wildcat squirmed and looked around the room frantically with blurry vision. He was able to grab the gun off the ground and fired off a shot that rang in Jonathan’s ears. “You’re going to die, clown,” he whispered, “And the whole city is going to die with you.”

Then, Wildcat sprinted outside, pushing past Evan — who stood there dumbfounded.

Jonathan was panting, staring at the night sky visible from the wide open door. He half expected to feel blood, maybe the bullet had hit him in the head, but there was nothing. Only deafening silence and the illuminated city lights pouring into the house.

He wished he could leave; leave this house, leave the city, leave Evan. It would cause less pain for everyone. Maybe his life would be normal with time. He could enjoy the holidays again, this upcoming Christmas even, with his family. If he told them what really happened, perhaps they’d accept him back.

But, Jonathan knew he could not leave. He knew he was stuck. There was something about Evan that made him stand there, staring out the door, resisting the urge to run outside. He wanted to know what it was, and maybe a deep part of him did know, but refused to admit it. Because after all that’s happened, all that he learned, it came down to one thing and one thing only. Heroes don’t fall for villains.

It all made sense after Evan confessed what had happened to Erin. All the times he had saved Jonathan or let him go free was out of guilt. That was why Evan was so afraid of Wildcat. The Night Owl knew that the secret he had kept would fly free, and that terrified him.

Jonathan didn’t really know why Evan kept it from him all this time. Sure, he got angry for a few moments, but that was the extent. It did leave him feeling empty and a little betrayed, but that could be fixed. What couldn’t be fixed was the fact that he was not there for his little sister when she was reaching into the lake for her scarf and a man, who had no idea what he was doing, pushed her in. It was their pasts now. Nothing could be changed. There was no bringing her back and that was alright because things happen and people shouldn’t dwell on something that can’t be altered.

And as Jonathan turned to finally look at Evan, who still stood there emotionless, everything settled into it’s place. The glass shards were being melted by the fire started in his chest, but they were only melted to make something new. He could feel the smoke as he exhaled, looking around. The room felt more vibrant than before. The white walls, the blue sofa, everything got brighter. He could feel the colors seeping into his skin; all the blues from sorrow, reds from anger, greens from envy, yellows from happiness. And of course, the brown from those eyes that he adored so much. They all made a gorgeous stained glass, like the windows in those big, beautiful churches. It seemed to all fit together much better than before and that in itself was exhilarating.

Everything he had ever felt or done was for a reason. They were his history. All that had lead up to this moment was supposed to happen or else he’d be dead. A bat should have killed him. A bullet should have killed him. Fucking hunger or disease should have killed him. But, here he was, alive in a living room with a guy who thinks Jonathan now hates him. Which is ironic because it is the exact opposite of hate that he feels for Evan.

“You can leave. I won’t stop you.”

Jonathan kept staring for a while longer. He knew he could walk out that door, which was literally already open for him, and never come back. But, he didn’t want to. Instead, he walked over to Evan and wrapped his arms around him. “It’s okay.” Jonathan buried his face into the crook of Evan’s neck, inhaling deeply, loving the scent that filled his nose. It was the same as usual — a musty cologne mixed with the slightest hint of pine. “It’s okay,” he whispered again.

“I thought you were going to leave, and man, it was one of the scariest thoughts I’ve had in a while,” Evan sniffled.

“I think you’re stuck with me at this point. For as long as you want me, anyways.”

Jonathan smiled into Evan’s skin. He reached up to dig his hand into the dark hair that made the most perfect faux hawk he’d ever seen, and tugged on a lock slightly. The closeness was breathtaking and he could feel his heart begin to beat faster and drum against his ribcage. Relief flooded through him when he felt Evan’s heart too, immediately melting at the sensation.

“We’re going to stop him together,” Evan said.

" _Together_ ," Jonathan repeated. 


	7. Chapter 7

The bruise on his ribs was almost gone when he woke up the next morning. It was a dull purple mark that had faded to yellow and was almost the color of his skin. Everytime he would twist his body in a certain way, a sharp pain rooted itself in his side for a couple minutes, leaving him breathless. When he ran his fingers along the sensitive skin, a shiver ran down his spine. The image of Wildcat emerging from the bedroom hallway flashed into focus, and he withdrew his fingers, curling them into a fist. His eyes wandered over to look at Evan, still sleeping soundly on the bed next to him, drooling slightly on his pillow.

Jonathan had so much trouble falling asleep last night. Every time he closed his eyes, he would see Erin falling into the lake, flailing her tiny arms and kicking her legs in an effort to stay above the water. Evan noticed his turmoil and ended up gathering Jonathan up in his arms and bringing him into the dark bedroom. They slept close to each other, legs intertwined and big, muscular arms wrapped around a smaller waist. It was almost perfect, but when Jonathan woke up and wriggled out of Evan’s grip, he faced the reality that there was no possible way for anything to ever happen.

As much as his heart ached every time he looked over at Evan’s sleeping figure, he couldn’t stop staring. This was a rare sight, even better than when he’d fallen asleep on the couch after his panic attack. His black hair was sticking in every direction, lips slightly parted as he took in big breaths, the sun from the cracked door was letting in just enough light to perfectly illuminate half of his face. He looked fucking perfect and Jonathan couldn’t touch him. And, oh god, he wanted to do nothing more than run his fingers along the sharp jawline and across his narrow nose. He wanted his hands to remember the shape of Evan’s face so that even if his mind forgot, he could still draw out the beautiful features. He’d give up his life to be able to plant a single kiss on those parted lips without repercussions.

There were some things that Jonathan had to admit to himself, like the fact that he wasn’t a good person or deserving of anything close to the kindness he’d been shown in this last week. However, there were other things that were deeper in the back of his mind, trying to claw it’s way out to make him see what he felt, that he could never confess. Because if he did, he’d act upon it, and ruin the only good part of his life. He could not risk losing Evan. So, the best thing to do was shut his eyes and pretend that Evan wasn’t there, sleeping next to him.

Which seemed too difficult for Jonathan to accomplish, so he got out of the bed slowly, letting his feet slide across the wood floor to not make any noise. He went into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. His toothbrush was sitting proudly next to Evan’s. That hurt, too. Stupid fucking toothbrushes made his heart thump in his chest. He grabbed his angrily, squirted out some toothpaste, and popped it in his mouth. The mirror above the sink was threatening to look at, because seeing his reflection might scare him into turning around. But, his eyes flicked to it, and the person staring back at him was surprising.

His eyes were bright, cheeks flushed with color, and the horrid cheekbones that jutted out from malnutrition were almost gone. Even though he was a mess on the inside, his outward appearance looked completely fine.

When he returned to the bedroom to get dressed, Evan was still asleep. All the crying last night must’ve drained his energy. Jonathan opened the wardrobe, shutting it once the computer booted on. He forgot about that. Frustrated, he shed his sweatshirt and left it on the bed, walking back out into the living room.

“Do you hide your clothes or something? Oh!” Jonathan smiled when he opened a small closet hiding in the bedroom hallway. The yellow knob seemed completely invisible against the white paint. Inside was all Evan’s clothes, hanging neatly from racks. He grabbed an oversized sweatshirt and decided it was best to switch out his stained jeans for a new pair.

The big windows were foggy from the morning dew and Jonathan gasped when he saw outside. “It’s snowing!” He screamed, practically slamming his body against the door as he pushed his way outside. There was a thin layer of crunchy snow built up on the ground that felt refreshing with each step. Big, fluffy snowflakes drifted to the ground and he stuck out his tongue, trying to catch a few. The city looked beautiful from a distance. All the skyscrapers had frosted windows and their silhouettes stood arrogantly against a grey sky.

Suddenly, there was a loud crunch behind him. Evan stood at the doorstep, rubbing his eyes and smiling brightly. Jonathan waved awkwardly and stuck his hands in the sweatshirt’s pocket. “You’re up! Good. It’s snowing.”

“Yeah, I heard you screaming about it.”

Jonathan blushed. It wasn’t nearly as noticeable because his cheeks were already flushed red from the cold air. He shrugged and turned back to look at the city, still admiring the glowing lights from afar, even though he’d much rather appreciate Evan’s bedhead. Then, something hard pelted his back, right in between his shoulder blades. He yelped and spun around to see Evan’s head tipped back, laughing hard. Snow fell from his hand.

“You bitch!” Jonathan yelled and picked up his own snowball. He tossed it hard and giggled madly when the snow slammed against Evan’s chest.

And then Evan was running at him, picking Jonathan up with strong arms and laying him gently down in the snow. His back was immediately soaked and sticky, but it was worth it to see Evan practically wheeze as he buried Jonathan. “How dare you snowball your wife?” He yelled as the slush covered him.

“I have to teach you a lesson!” Evan growled.

Jonathan became painfully aware of the way Evan’s hips were practically grinding down into his own once the man leaned closer to gather up more snow. The blood from his face threatened to rush elsewhere. In fear of embarrassing himself, he grabbed Evan and slammed him to the ground, hovering over the amused hero with a happy glint in his eyes. “Oh yeah?”

Both their faces got closer and closer. Their noses were brushing against each other and just as Jonathan was about to accept his fate and press his lips to Evan’s, a car honked its horn from up the street. He lifted his head to look and saw a green truck pulling into the driveway. The windows were too tinted to see inside, but three doors flung open. The first man he saw was tall and angry, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head back and forth. Another, much shorter, dark haired man walked from the passenger side to stand close to the giant. The final fellow hopped out from the back and adjusted the glasses on his face.

Evan stood up and dusted the snow from his t-shirt. He nervously cleared his throat and took a step toward the truck. “Hey guys. I forgot you were coming today.”

“Yeah, that’s obvious,” the tallest man said.

Jonathan shifted in the snow. It got uncomfortable quickly when all the eyes averted to look at him, staring awkwardly. He waved and barely got out a “Hello” from his dry mouth.

“This is _him_? This The Clown?”

“I told you not to call him that. His name is Jonathan. Jonathan, this is Nogla, Lui, and Craig. They work in law enforcement a few cities over. They’re here to help,” Evan rested his hand on the small of Jonathan’s back, nudging him to walk forward. “Let’s all drive over to the diner downtown to warm up with some hot chocolate. Sound good?”

Nogla frowned and got back in the truck. Lui and Craig climbed into the backseat. Their gazes did not leave Jonathan the whole time they drove away.

He felt worse when he and Evan drove to the diner in bitter silence. They knew about his past, how many crimes he committed, and didn’t feel safe around him. That was okay. But, it was something more than that. It wasn’t just fear or the lack of justice that was pissing them off. There was a boiling hatred resting beneath their winter coats.

“I’m sorry,” Evan said, breaking the silence once they were about to pull into the diner. The truck was already parked there.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. The way they’re acting is ridiculous.”

Jonathan shrugged and rolled the sleeves up on the hoodie. “They don’t like me. That’s fine. I get it.”

“Just be yourself in there. Nogla is soft. He’ll break.”

The diner was dark and stuffy. The table that the five men sat at was meant to influence easy conversation, but Nogla just sat across from Jonathan, rolling his eyes at every word that left his mouth. Lui and Craig didn’t seem to mind his presence at all. They talked and joked like people are supposed to do. Evan kept squeezing Jonathan’s hand under the table every time Nogla would make a smart remark that stung.

“I’ve gone there a few times actually. Their chips are always stale, but it’s a good little gas station,” Jonathan answered Lui’s question before sipping his hot chocolate

“Did you steal the chips? Or did you rob it then go back?” Nogla asked.

Jonathan looked over at Evan sadly, then back at Nogla. He couldn’t say anything because he had actually robbed the store once. It was a long time ago, but it still happened. There was an awkward silence as the waiter served everyone else’s orders. The hot chocolate didn’t burn his throat as bad as the smart comments Nogla kept making. He ended up just keeping his mouth shut, looking around at the other people in the diner, enjoying his drink. When he finally looked back at Nogla, he had eggs all over his long face.

“You got food on your face,” Jonathan said, interrupting the conversation.

Nogla grimaced, dropping his fork. The waiter forgot to give him a napkin, so Jonathan leaned over with his own and scrapped the egg off. He sat there, letting him wipe his face, with wide eyes and puffy cheeks. When Jonathan leaned back into his seat, Evan was staring at him with a proud smile on his face.

Evan got up to go to the bathroom soon after, leaving Jonathan with the three other men. He hadn’t really spoken much, so his hopes were high that they’d all just leave him alone. That’s what he wanted. If Evan came back to a fight, it’d upset him. These were his friends and Jonathan respected that because he respected Evan.

“So,” Nogla said, “You’re a good guy now?” His Irish accent was thicker with the lowness of his voice.

Jonathan nodded, “Yeah. As good as I can be. I’m sorry for everything.”

Nogla smiled for the first time and stretched across the table to pat him on the shoulder. “And what are your feelings about Evan now? Seeing he is the Night Owl, after all.”

To Jonathan, the Night Owl was not Evan. It was another non-related entity. A blank mask that showed no emotion. No one else had the chance to see the black hair and soft, brown eyes underneath that were full of warmth. They only got to see a hero figure. He was lucky enough to get to see the man within the hero. “He’s a really good person. In the last week, he’s really helped me get back on my feet. Evan being the Night Owl means nothing to me.”

“I think you feel more than that.”

“What do you mean?” Jonathan gripped the cup in his hand harder.

“I can see it. We all can. Evan is a dumbass for liking you because I know how this story ends. You’re going to break his heart,” Nogla nodded towards Lui and Craig.

“Yeah,” Craig continued, “He looks at you like you’re his property. It’s disgusting.”

Blood rushed to Jonathan’s face. They had to be joking. Evan would never feel the same way. Not with their history together. “I don’t think-”

“We know!” Lui yelled, his voice cracking.

Nogla smiled and patted the squeaker on his head. “No, no! Let him be in denial. It’ll make one hell of a good show to watch while we’re beating that shithead Wildcat into submission.”

Just as Nogla finished, Evan sat back down. He grabbed Jonathan’s hand, again, underneath the table. Annoyed, Jonathan pushed his hand away. He didn’t want to play this game anymore. He didn’t want Evan to feel the same way about him because he didn’t deserve the affection. After all The Clown did to the Night Owl, there shouldn’t be any forgiveness.

Did Evan forget the time Jonathan shot at him with a pistol? Or what about the time The Clown gave him a concussion? Was that all just water under the bridge? It couldn’t be. And that made Jonathan hate Evan for overlooking their history together.

But, then he remembered how it was now, and the feeling dissolved back into craving.

“Well,” Craig said as he stood up, “We have to go check in to our hotel.”

“You’re not staying with us?” Evan asked.

Nogla laughed and pushed his chair in. “No, we wouldn't want to intrude on anything important.” He threw a wink at Jonathan and walked towards the diner’s exit, Lui and Craig following close behind.

Once they walked through the door back home, Jonathan felt bad. Evan had ignored him ever since he pushed his hand away. “I’ll make lunch,” he muttered, throwing his jacket off. He stomped over to the kitchen and took a few things out of the fridge.

Jonathan watched from the door, a stupid smile plastered on his face. Okay, yeah, he was upset that Evan wasn’t talking to him. But, the fact that Evan got so agitated when he got rejected was empowering, to say the least. And the way he was squirming around the kitchen, lazily throwing a sandwich together with a frown was utterly hilarious.

He really didn’t want to be a tease. He had never really gotten the chance to be one. But, Jonathan strutted into the kitchen and wrapped his hands around Evan’s waist from behind, then planted a single kiss on the back of his neck. “Tease” was an understatement at this point.

Evan’s shoulders slacked and he even pushed his head up to try and get another kiss. Jonathan smirked and let go, walking into the living room and dropping into the soft, cushiony couch. He felt Evan’s hot stare still on him as he nestled farther into the blanket, propping his hood up to block out some of the light pouring into the room.

Jonathan looked out the window, still enjoying the sight of the falling snow. The afternoon brought a darker sky with it, and nighttime would surely be even more gorgeous if the stars came out.

“Here,” Evan said, handing him a plate.

“Thank you,” Jonathan said in a pleased tone. The sandwich looked delicious and tasted as good as it appeared. “Are the guys coming again tonight?”

Evan shrugged, “Probably later on to discuss plans.”

“What is the plan, exactly?”

"Take Wildcat hostage as soon as he strikes again. There’s something else going on, too. He has accomplices doing smaller robberies around the city. We have to decide whether to catch them first, then attack, or just go for the biggest target,” Evan sighed, obviously getting tired of the chase.

Jonathan looked towards the city. He could see an occasional police light and wondered if anything dreadful was happening. “Do we know their prime locations?”

“Yeah. Two of them tend to rob the western banks together. Another one typically snipes cops from roofs whenever he sees one.”

Jonathan shuddered. Snipers were the worst possible villain. They’re hard to see and experts with guns. They lay low on rooftops and wait for hours until they see their target. If he has a good scope, it’d be easy to snipe from a tall skyscraper. And typically it’s a one shot, one kill situation. “We have to get the sniper first. He could be anywhere.”

Evan nodded, “Make sure to voice your opinion when the others come. I bet they’ll agree. If they do and we have a solid plan, we strike tomorrow morning.”

Everyone did end up agreeing on taking out the sniper. When Nogla, Lui, and Craig came over and heard the information, they gave no time for Evan or Jonathan to speak. Five minutes later, they had a plan to strike at sunrise in the northern part of the city. “He’ll be there, I know it. They’re all making a full circle from bank to bank. See this? A perfect semicircle so far. This is where he’ll be - right on top of Hotel Barclay,” Nogla explained the idea of sneaking to the hotel roof using the outside steps. Once on top, they’d cuff the accomplice and bring him to the police station.

It all seemed perfect so far. Jonathan knew that if they went up the wrong building and the sniper was close by, they’d be done for. Evan was thinking the same thing.

When the house was quiet again, his nerves really set in. He ended up running to the toilet and vomiting violently. Evan rubbed his back, massaging the tension out of him. Even though he really didn’t want Evan to see him like this, it felt good to have someone offer comfort. After he was done brushing his teeth, Jonathan headed towards the couch, stomach still turning.

“Where are you going?” Evan called from the bedroom, leaning out the door.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow, “To bed?”

“Not on the couch. C’mon.”

Jonathan walked into the room, heart fluttering when Evan patted the space next to him. He climbed into the bed and pulled the covers up over his head, relaxing into the soft mattress. Moments later, he felt a head on his chest and black hair tickled his nose.

“You’ll be okay,” Evan mumbled, half asleep.

Jonathan stared up at the ceiling, rubbing Evan’s arm lazily. He usually didn’t like this much contact, but he wished that this moment would last forever. Honestly, what he and Evan had may be only a close friendship, but that didn’t bother him one bit. If this is what their friendship was, he’d be happy. If Evan never, ever felt the same way, that’d be okay because it meant there was no risk of losing him. It would be better to stay by his side as someone he trusted than get the chance to kiss him goodnight - even if Jonathan hoped to do that at some point.

He yawned, eyes half closed. All the warmth around him was lulling him to sleep slowly. It was relieving to feel too tired to function. His brain couldn’t even think about tomorrow morning properly. “Yeah, we have to protect the guys, too. I don’t want them getting hurt.”

Evan nodded and nuzzled harder into his chest, “And I’ll protect you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I do ship other BBS members, so be on the lookout for lil relationship hints ;) Thanks for everything! I love you all!


	8. Chapter 8

He woke up first again. It was early. The room was still dark and the light hadn’t even began to creep underneath the door. Jonathan removed himself from the strong grasp Evan had on his waist, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and breathing deeply.

Was today a good day to die?

He pondered the thought as he shuffled towards the living room. It all looked the same - the couches, the television, the giant windows that reflected a yellowing sky. God, he knew every floorboard that creaked and all the tiny, spiderweb cracks in the white walls. This was his home.

There was a loud thump from the bedroom and then the sound of feet tip-toeing towards Jonathan. Evan emerged from the darkened hallway, rubbing his eyes with a sleepy smile. “Morning,” He muttered with a yawn.

Jonathan was moving before he could help it, taking big strides towards the man and wrapping his arms around him. He buried his face in the crook of his neck, inhaling and refusing to let any tears slip out.

Evan returned the hug, allowing himself to plant tiny little kisses along Jonathan’s forehead and cheeks. He never let his lips linger too long, though.

“Promise me we’ll be okay, that you’ll be okay,” Jonathan said.

He felt Evan sigh. “I promise.”

But, Jonathan could sense the emptiness in it.

They were at the hotel in the blink of an eye. The world blurred into a mixture of dull colors as a light, powdery snow drifted to the ground. The building was one giant brick square, a black spiral staircase protruding from the side - a serious eyesore. Well, not exactly an eyesore to Jonathan, more like a headache. His head pounded at the thought of going onto the slippery roof to find it empty. If that was the case, they were screwed. The sniper would pick them off, one by one. If Jonathan was lucky, he’d have a bullet go through him first, giving time for Evan to run.

“I can hear you thinking over there,” the owl whispered into his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

He let out a chuckle, “Is that possible?”

Jonathan’s question was left unanswered as the heroes began their ascent. It was momentarily prolonged because of the ice slicked across each step.

“If my cause of death turns out to be falling down these flight of stairs, please don’t tell anyone,” Craig muttered as he gripped onto the side railing.

Nogla was about to make a snarky comment, but the sound of snow crunching on the roof made him clasp his mouth shut. At first they were light noises, making the men tilt their heads to try and pick up the sound better. But, in seconds, they became heavy steps. It was soon apparent that the entity on the rooftop was pacing back and forth from one side to the other, kicking up the snow and sending delicate flakes fluttering to Barclay’s empty parking lot. The white flurries picked up the slight shimmer of the orange, rising sun set low in the sky. The clouds were covering part of it, but that didn’t stop the powerful rays from shining on the massive icicles clinging to a few windowsills, making water droplets leak off the sharp points. With each step, the icicles bounced, shaking in their places with the anticipation of falling.

Evan muttered something incomprehensible above him, holding a finger to the black beak. The tension held itself firm in Jonathan’s clenched jaw. Oh, how badly he wanted to scream out to turn around; to go back to Evan’s house and warm themselves up at the breakfast nook with cups of hot chocolate. It was such a childish and innocent thought for the situation they were in that his brain fogged up with each passing second. That was, until, Evan snapped a gloved finger to bring the attention back on him. The owl pointed upwards, then placed a hand over his chest.

“No,” Jonathan mouthed. No way was he allowing Evan to go up there first. The most important person to ever walk into his life was not about to leave early. Nope, his body, his whole being wouldn’t permit the idea to even enter his mind.

But, Evan shook his head, then bolted up the last few steps on quick feet before hoisting himself up onto the roof. Nogla and Lui both reached a hand out to grab him far too late while Jonathan stood there, shoulders sagging and blue lips parted as the color drained completely from his face. His bones turned icier than the steps for the moments before a maniacal laugh rang through the air, a scream compared to the deafening silence that once drifted over the men like the city’s fog. And he didn’t want to admit it. He refused for as long as he could before the word, the damned name, slipped from his mouth, causing his very insides to burn in fear and desperation. “Wildcat.”

The three men whipped around, eyes widening. “What did you just say?” Craig croaked.

“Wildcat,” He repeated again, throat dry.

“No, it can’t be,” Lui whispered, “Please, don’t let it be.”

And then there was a faint clicking noise above Jonathan and when he looked up, a sudden blackness peered back. It was the barrel of a shotgun.

“You ladies going to join Mr. Owl up here? Or are you all just going to wait for Moo and I to freeze?” Wildcat snickered and pressed the cold metal against Jonathan’s cheek.

When Jonathan was dragged up onto the roof and thrown onto the pavement, he noticed three things at once. One, the sky above him was not as beautiful as it once was. Two, another presence was lingering on the rooftop. A man, with short, brown hair and a barrett in both hands hovered at the edge, glaring off at the sunrise like some poet. Three, Evan was knocked out and face down, mask smushed up. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw his back rise up in a small breath.

“Well, this is a bigger crowd than I expected. Moo, I expect you to take care of them with ease. Especially this one here,” Wildcat took a few steps towards Craig and rubbed the muzzle of the shotgun across his rosy cheeks. “This one here, make him scream. Too bad I won’t be here to hear it. Must be a beautiful noise.”

“Yes, sir,” Moo said as Wildcat climbed down the steps.

Okay, so Jonathan narrowed his choices down to only two in the time it took Wildcat to uncomfortably caress Craig with a shotgun. The first one would be considered the unfavorable one. It included Jonathan tackling Moo and diving into the parking lot. A heroic death to save the others. The second one was, well, better. Evan had a smoke grenade hanging leisurely off his belt, ready to be unattached and used.

“Whose first?” Moo asked with the tilt of his barrett. He spun around, and Jonathan smiled when he saw a black pair of sunglasses on the man’s face.

_It’s not even sunny out, dumbass._

Jonathan stood up, wincing when he realized that he had landed on his bruised side when Wildcat tossed him onto the roof. “But, I need to say goodbye to him,” he gestured over to Evan, who had begun to squirm.

From underneath the shades, a pair of fluffy eyebrows appeared as Moo raised them. “Do as you wish, but after that, if you do not comply, I’ll kill you both.”

“Woah,” Jonathan raised both his hands up, “I die, but he doesn’t?”

“Nope, boss said something about losing his boyfriend being enough to kill him mentally. Eat away at him and stuff.”

Jonathan sighed. Boyfriend. Yeah, right, he could go with that for now. “Ah, I see. The loss of someone he couldn’t save will really engross his entire life. Maybe it will even force him to retire. The death of his handsome, amazing, hot boyfriend will be so devastatingly horrible, that the pain will just be unbearable.” As he spoke, Jonathan took a few, big steps towards Evan until he was standing above him. He leaned down, letting a hand fall across his broad back.

“You’re such a jackass,” Evan muttered, still face down on the concrete.

“Oh, how I’ll miss you and your compliments,” Jonathan kept running his hand down Evan’s side until he reached the neon yellow belt. His fingers gently wrapped around the smoke grenade, making sure to keep the pin intact.

“I know you have a plan so go through with it already!”

And with that, Jonathan hurriedly pulled off the can and pin altogether. The smoke leaked out and seeped up into his nostrils, causing his bright blue eyes to water. But, he was still able to throw it directly at Moo’s feet.

“Hey! Hey!” Moo screamed, attempting to kick away the can, but missing it completely. He fired off a few shots, the sound ringing through the air as Jonathan grabbed Evan’s hand to help him up.

They fled down the stairs quickly after that, following Lui, Nogla, and Craig. Evan’s owl mask had rolled up ever so slightly, letting Jonathan notice the bruise forming across the side of his face where Wildcat had butt stroked him with the rifle. It was a deep shade of purple with a splotch of blue right in the middle and he should really not be thinking, while escaping from certain death, how he really wants to put his _mouth_ on it.

Jonathan lept off the final few steps with ease, boots landing on the ground with a thump as the five turned the corner to run into the doors of the hotel for protection.

“Don’t move,” A deep voice growled from behind them.

“Shit,” Nogla muttered as they all spun around to see Moo standing there, shadowed by the overhanging roof of the hotel, sniper pointing at Nogla’s face.

“All five of you are lined up nice and pretty for me to kill you all with one bullet.”

Shadows bounced around, each of the droplets of water landing in spots on Moo’s jacket. They soaked through the material, staining the perfect green fabric into a polka-dotted mess. There was no way to escape this. But, then again, this must be the third time in two weeks that Jonathan thought he was going to die. God, if he survived falling from a building then he sure as hell-

Wait. Falling. The water droplets.

Jonathan looked up, neck stiff with nervousness as his eyes spotted it. The largest of the icicles, glistening ten or so feet above Moo’s head. What would it take to make it fall? Easy.

He reached back, feeling around Evan’s waist, as the man cleared his throat awkwardly at the contact. Jonathan rolled his eyes, continuing to feel around for the desired object. And then, his fingers wrapped around the frozen metal. He quickly pulled the boomerang from off Evan’s belt, looking back at the half-mask for permission.

“It’s our best shot.”

And with that, Jonathan drew his arm back just as the sniper clicked with the sound of being reloaded. The boomerang flew from his hand, a flash of black and yellow up into the air before it harshly smashed into the icicle. It clanged and shook and the smaller one next to it fell, shattering on the ground inches in front of Moo.

“You miss-”

The icicle plummeted down, falling horizontally from hitting the wall on the way down. It smashed onto Moo’s head, not even cracking as it fell to the ground with a clang. The sniper let a few trickles of blood run down his face as the gun dropped, Moo’s eyes rolling back into his head before he fell backwards, landing limply on the pavement.

Evan began to drag Jonathan towards the street, who was unaware of all the commotion around him. His eyes did not leave Moo’s dead body until he was forced back into reality with the strong grip of Evan’s fingers intertwining with his.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Hope you enjoyed :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, christmas time is nye and I can't help but write a disgustingly fluffy chapter. AND ONE MORE BIG WHOOP! FANART!! From an amazing artist on tumblr - http://ana280.tumblr.com/ Much love to them! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

[ ](http://s666.photobucket.com/user/rachelshaw619/media/image1_zpsntexkzer.jpg.html)

He wanted to scream. To let it out all, the built up emotions that had made its way into his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. The image of the icicle dropping and blood and lifeless eyes kept replaying  over and over in his head. He killed someone.

And now Jonathan just sat on the couch, shaking hands struggling to hold a cup of water. A war going on in his mind. A few headache pills were left untouched on the coffee table. Snow continued to fall outside. The television spoke of a freak accident in front of a hotel. He could hear the shower running, a faint background noise to all the chaos.

It took him a few minutes to take a sip of the water and actually look at the windows instead of the floor. The neighbors across the street had hung up christmas lights all along their house’s gutters. They made him feel warm inside; reminded him of hanging lights like those with Erin. Her smile was as bright as the little bulbs she struggled to put on the christmas tree that night. Two days later, she drowned. It was the day before christmas and her stocking was still full and the presents were still there and he vaguely remembers throwing the small tree they could barely afford against the wall in anger.

On christmas day, Jonathan’s mother and father announced that they couldn’t handle living with a murderer and kicked him out. A week later, he robbed a bank and watched his tears turn red and white from the paint. He had picked clown makeup because Erin loved the circus.

Thinking of her made him relax, sink back lower in the cushions of the couch and swallow the headache pills. Hopefully, the throbbing behind his eyes would calm down before Evan emerged from the shower.

Two minutes later, after the news had ended and Friends came on, Evan snuck up behind the couch and placed a gentle kiss on the top of Jonathan’s head.

Which _totally_ was okay with him, but oh god, did that small gesture make his hands shake more.

“You doing okay? You want anything?” Evan asked, still standing behind the couch.

“No, I’m good.”

Evan suddenly hopped onto the couch and folded his legs up to his chest. “Jon, you haven’t ate since last night. Want me to make some macaroni or something? I know you’re upset and I know how it feels to have that same guilty headache you have right now. But, hey man, Nogla would be dead if it wasn’t for you. All of us would be. You saved us.”

Jonathan bit his bottom lip as he looked at Evan. The bruise from Wildcat’s rifle was a horrific shade of blue and purple, the outside tinted a little bit yellow almost reached all the way from his cheek to his ear. His skin even cracked in a few parts, maybe from the impact, and some dried blood stained the area. The shower couldn’t even wash it off. “You still got hurt,” Jonathan kept eyeing the mark, guilt making his insides burn.

The look in Evan’s eyes surprised him at first. It wasn’t sympathetic or sad, but anger. He leaned forward quickly, “Do you know how I feel every time you say that? Every time you fucking act this way, it makes me so much more protective of you. It makes me want to stop you from going out in the snow in fear you’ll catch a cold, it makes me want to take a hundred bullets for you, makes me want to. . .” Evan trailed off and sucked back the unsaid words with a deep breath.

Jonathan’s ears burned. He just sat there, mouth hanging askew and hands in his lap. There was that same feeling again. The one he had when Evan was panicking and they had counted to ten together. It was a bubbly feeling, something he never gotten the chance to have before. The warmth filled up his whole body and it felt so incredible. To be able to look into those coffee brown eyes and hear those words that he had desired to hear his entire life after The Clown was born was almost too much. He was important to someone. And that someone was his archenemy and best friend - a man with messy black hair and cute nose and, fuck, he wanted to touch every single part of him. It was hard to admit in his mind while sitting there on the couch as the seconds passed by.

But, his mother had taught him about this too long ago when he had hit fourteen and fallen in love with a girl who had the same shade of hair as his own and electric green eyes. He had cried into his pillow the night that she rejected his invitation to a dance, causing his mother to wake up and come sit on his bedside, rubbing his back in circles and whispering advice.

_“One day, not in high school, you’re going to meet someone. This person is going to be the biggest pain in your neck in the world. You’re going to be so angry and upset with the way they act or something they do that you never want to look at them. But, then, on a sunny afternoon or perhaps on a stroll through the park, you’re going to bump into them and really look at them. Not just their eyes or their hands or the way they move, but their souls. And then you’re going to find out their favorite food, their fears, what they smell like after a shower, the way their mouth slowly stretches into a smile, how theirs eyes light up when they talk about something they love, the deep breaths they take as they fall asleep, the way they kiss. You’re going to fall in love with it all, every single part of them. At times, it will be difficult, for all I know you might fall in love in some alleyway underneath the light of the moon with a total stranger that you never meet again. But, I promise you, Jonny, that it will work out and you’ll be happy.”_

She did not mention falling off a skyscraper or panic attacks or shopping carts and teddy bears or the fact that this someone would repeatedly point a gun to his head. He could almost hear his mother questioning him from their farm house back in North Carolina, _“But did he ever pull the trigger?”_

And then Jonathan thought about waking up next to Evan, watching the sun pour through the bedroom door as he tried not to watch the beautiful man beside him sleep. Of course, he eventually looked and couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop feeling the ghost of Evan’s hands holding his waist and hearing the sonorous inhales with each rise of his chest. God, he fell in love that day. It wasn’t slow and smooth, but felt so sweet and warm and scary all at the same time. Yes, he knew that the possibility of Evan loving him back was small and that this would rip him apart worse than those five years after Erin. Maybe, he wouldn’t be able to put himself back together again, but he would surely offer Evan all of his pieces.

Jonathan took a deep breath and decided to try holding a staring contest with the christmas lights across the street. “I’m positive I would’ve died that night you found me near the apple tree farm outside of the city. I felt it, y’know? My head was fuzzy. You saved me from Wildcat, too. And from falling off a building. I owe you more than I ever can imagine to give. So, my life is worth just about that, I think.”

“Don’t fucking say that. Don’t you dare play that shit with me,” Evan was on his feet sounding less angry and more winded, “All these years I chased after you. I can’t imagine what it felt like constantly on the run. You were so tired when I found you that night. Your ribs actually casted shadows on your hips because they were so prominent. I owe you five years of safety, rest, food and stability. You’ve given me so much already, Jon,” He ran a finger through his dripping hair, slicking it back. “You know what?”

Jonathan was already looking up at Evan, eyes wide in fear. “What?”

“You deserve a good christmas this year. I’ve taken that away from you for too long because of my mistake. We’re leaving right now. Get dressed.”

Twenty minutes later, Jonathan was sitting in Evan’s car, dressed in triple layers including a hat and gloves, staring at an entrance to the christmas tree farm a few miles out of the city. The ride there was quiet, involving a repeating playlist of music that included Queen and G-Eazy, which was one of the most ridiculous combinations Jonathan has ever heard. But, hey, it kept the atmosphere a lot less tense than it was back at the house. A few times, Jonathan felt Evan’s hand move from the shifter to grip his knee. He almost lost it when one of his fingers brushed up against the inside of his thigh; he had let out an exhale of misty breath, causing Evan to mutter a quiet “Sorry.”

Now, Evan was dragging him into a crowd, picking up a saw from the counter of a stand, and leading him into the rows of pine trees. People were everywhere. Children tugged their mothers along, pointing at the biggest tree decorated with ornaments with bright eyes. Some couples walked hand in hand while holding steaming cups of hot chocolate in the other. The sun was hanging low in the sky and turned the snow into a illuminated blanket with orange and yellow shadows dancing across the ground. It was all amazing. He hadn’t seen or felt this much holiday spirit in a long time.

“This one?” Evan stopped in front of medium sized tree that was rid of any bare spots. The branched were nice and straight, not droopy like the ones surrounding it.

Jonathan ran a gloved finger across the scratchy bark and inhaled the scent of pine and couldn’t help but smile as he thought of that smell engulfing him and Evan as they lay on the couch. “Perfect.”

Then, Evan got to cutting the poor thing down. He sawed back and forth effortlessly, stopping every couple seconds to fix his hat that kept covering his eyes. Soon, the tree buckled and tipped sideways - landing in the powdery snow inches away from Jonathan’s boots.

When they had finished tying the tree down to the roof and gotten into the car, silently watching the people pass by them with trees and lights of their own, Jonathan felt overwhelmed with pitiful sappiness and grabbed Evan’s hand to intertwine their icy fingers together.

“When I was around ten, my sister and I used to dream of picking out a tree at this place. Our parents never really took us out, mostly because of my father. He didn’t seem to like us too much. Not just by ignoring, but by calling us mistakes a lot and how we had put them in a money pit. Our christmases were always nice and quiet, but treeless. Thanks for taking me out tonight, I just wish she was here sometimes, you know?” Jonathan choked on a sob when he felt Evan’s grip tighten.

They talked a little bit on the drive home, discussing family memories that were both happy and sad. Evan talked about how he was a hockey star in high school and was even offered a scholarship for it, but had to turn down the offer.

“So how did you become the proclaimed Night Owl?” Jonathan asked just as the two had untied the tree from the roof.   

Evan clenched his jaw as he hoisted the tree over his shoulder to allow Jonathan to quickly grab the stump. They carried it in together, setting it up right in the living room so that it could be seen out the window. The pointy branch at the top almost reached the sloped ceiling and while Jonathan was admiring the beauty of it, Evan was dragging in a box from the bedroom.

“Well, I guess since we’re pretty close I’ll tell you. . .” Evan chuckled.

Jonathan shot him a dirty look from his place in front of the tree.

“Hm, I was a senior in high school at the time. I was up late, of course, when all of a sudden I heard my mother scream. My father was at work, my sister out late with her boyfriend. I heard glass shatter and a man’s voice yelling at her to quiet down or else they’d kill me too. I had been given a really cool silver hockey stick for my birthday with my name engraved in the side. So, I grabbed it, ran into the bedroom. By the time I was done, the hockey stick was red and my mother was, well, terrified to say the least. We met eyes, him and I, and I just felt this sickening, boiling hatred for everything he was made of. My feelings manifested into a calling to save people. I thought about how if I was younger, or hesitated, my mother would have been killed. Innocent people don’t deserve to die,” he finished with a huff, hauling the bundle of white christmas lights out of the box.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. He liked how Evan became a hero, it was a good story; honorable. The complete opposite of his own life story. He imagined Evan growing up in a good home, surrounded by a family who loved him and cheered him on at hockey games. They probably ate at the table on Thanksgiving, laughing with their mouths full of food while their mother prepared more turkey. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel envious at all. Evan deserved the best because he was the best person. Jonathan cleared his throat, “So why were you up late?”

“Cause’ I’m a night owl,” Evan replied with a wink.

Jonathan smirked, walking over to help Evan with the christmas lights. He took a string and wrapped it around the lowest branch, separating the thick needles so that the lights weren’t covered up. Evan did the next string on the second highest branch. And they kept going like that, one by one, wrapping the lights up in a candy cane shaped fashion. The last thing left in the box was a shiny, golden star to be placed at the top. Jonathan wasn’t tall enough, so he let Evan handle that one.

When the lights were plugged in, the whole living room came to life with them. “It looks so beautiful,” Jonathan muttered, admiring the brightness and fond feeling that came with it.

Then, out of his peripheral vision, he saw Evan lean over and hold something above his head. Looking up, Jonathan held his breath when he recognized the distinguishing three red berries and green leaves of a -

“It’s a mistletoe!” Evan grinned enthusiastically, dangling the plant above his head eagerly.

Jonathan found it hard to look over at Evan’s smile, for if he did that possibility of locking lips was all too real. “It is.”

“So, are you going to do anything about it?”

“You’re the one holding it, dumbass,” Jonathan decided to toss his head to the side playfully, facing Evan and wrapping his hands around his waist.

Evan cupped Jonathan’s face in his hands, leaned forward. Jonathan held his breath and let his eyes flutter close. And then Evan was placing tiny kisses along his forehead, some on his cheeks and jawline, and a big, wet one on his neck. Jonathan opened his eyes and narrowed them in annoyance as the kisses continued, loud, obnoxious, and sloppy. Evan was smirking with each smack, letting his lips linger for milliseconds on Jon’s skin.

“And here’s one for my favorite part of you,” Evan whispered as he kissed the tip of his nose.

“And one for a place you should get pierced,” he kissed his earlobe quickly.

“Oh, and you got these freckles right here that’s cute,” Evan pecked at his pointed chin.

“I would kiss your eyeball but that would be uncomfortable so I’ll just say that I like your eyes,” he mumbled with his lips against Jonathan’s neck.

And then Evan grabbed Jonathan’s hands, tugging them harshly so that he was leading him. Jonathan’s mind was frantic as he stepped into the bedroom, cheeks flushed and lips parted in utter shock. Evan slowly pushed him onto the bed, lifting up the baggy sweatshirt he was wearing and staring at his stomach with half-lidded eyes.

“There’s one more part. . .That I really like.”

Jonathan struggled to keep his hips planted on the bed and gripped the sheets as Evan hovered above his stomach for what seemed like forever. Then, with one swift movement, put his lips to his belly button and blew a raspberry.

Maybe, _just maybe_ , Jonathan fell in love a little more.  

****  
  



	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the ridiculously long wait! This chapter is short, but I'm going to try and slam out the next one (which will hopefully be much longer) as fast as I can! Also, sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors. I'm sick again :)

_ “He would never love a monster like you.” _

_ Jonathan was standing in a dark room, illuminated by a single luminescent yellow light shining a symbol of an owl onto the wall. Evan’s symbol. _

_ “You honestly think he’d want you?” _

_ Jonathan whipped around to face the man, only to see another wall behind him. But, he recognized the voice. _

_ “You’re just a plaything to him. Just something to fuck when he gets bored.” _

_ “Liar!” Jonathan shouted into the emptiness. Evan had never even touched him like that, he would never use him, right? The room was starting to spin. _

_ “You’re going to be the death of him! You hurt everyone you love. Look at Erin, she’s rotting away in a casket because of you. Even worse, the Night Owl was the one who drowned her.” _

_ Jonathan tugged at his hair as he felt angry tears starting to form. “Stop it! Stop!” He thought of his sister, how beautiful and alive she was. Her blonde curly hair bouncing as she chased him around the house, filling the rooms with laughter. And then he remembered how odd she looked in the casket, blue fabric pooled around her pale figure. Her lips weren’t smiling and it was so strange to not see her crystal eyes peering up at him as he kissed her forehead for the last time. His parents look as he walked away would stay with him for the rest of his life because it was nothing but disgust written on his father’s face and shame on his mother’s. _

_ He could hear the water splashing and coughing and screaming. Absolute terror filled his body and consumed him and he started to scream, too. But he couldn’t hear himself. _

_ And then it all stopped. No more noises. He removed his hands that he hadn’t noticed were cupped over his ears in a desperate struggle to block everything out. Wildcat stood in the shadows in front of him, half of his face lit up by the yellow light. “You’re going to have to hear his screams, watch him take his final breath. He’ll slip away like your sister did.” _

_ Wildcat smiled and started to laugh, “I’m coming for you.” _

Jonathan woke up with a start, rolling off the bed in panic and thumping on a hard surface. It took him a few moments to register where he was. When he stood up to find an empty bed, he began panicking. What if his dream was foreshadowing something? He couldn’t bare the thought of losing his best friend. Not being able to feel his warmth ever again because, oh god, he’d end up in a casket, pale and dead and just like Erin. His lips would no longer be pink, but blue and his hands would still be his hands, but they’d be so cold. He would never smile again. They’d never touch again.

But, then the door squeaked open and a yawning Evan stood in the doorway with a glass of orange juice. “Oh, you’re awake? Sorry, man, my throat hurts. I think I’m getting a cold or-”

He was interrupted by Jonathan sliding over in his socks and wrapping his arms around his waist. Evan smelled like  _ him _ , musky and fresh at the same time, and Jonathan was so grateful for it. “I had a bad dream.”

Evan raised an eyebrow and used his free hand to rub circles into Jonathan’s back, “A nightmare, huh?”

And then Evan was setting his glass down on the side table while dragging Jonathan back onto the bed. They sat cross-legged facing each other and Jonathan couldn’t stop staring at Evan again. This wasn’t the first time this had happened either. It was captivating, watching the man lazily rub his eyes and uncomfortably readjust the strings of his sweatpants. He took a sip of his orange juice and then Jonathan was watching his throat move and the now vanishing bruise that lingered on the side of his face. It had turned from a deep purple to dull brown in the span of a week and anyone who saw him would probably assume it was a birthmark. Certainly not the injury from a rifle to the face. He wanted to touch it. Not press down or anything that would hurt, just gently glide his fingers across the outline of it. Maybe it’d disappear under his fingertips. Maybe he’d help him instead of hurt him for once. 

“So,” Evan cleared his throat after setting his glass down again, “What was your dream about?” He leaned forward a little, clearly interested in the details.

That’s really what Jonathan loved about Evan. He listened. “I don’t want to worry about you dying, but I do. I’m fucking terrified of it.”

“Hey, hey, I’m not going anywhere. You’re practically stuck with me. We’ve gone too far, Jon, I won’t let you get rid of me that easily.”

Jonathan smirked and began to pick at the bed sheet nervously. Heat rose to his face and the familiar flutter in his chest started up. They have gone pretty damn far. From pointing guns at each other to kissing was an amazing feat in itself. And that’s another memory brought up from the night they came home from christmas tree shopping. Evan had started to kiss him. Not on his lips, anywhere but actually. It was such an intimate experience, though, and the two had fallen asleep with their limbs intertwined as usual. But, waking up in the morning was different. Evan had made him breakfast in bed and they ate together and shared even more stories from their childhood. After that, they fell back asleep for the whole day. Jonathan woke up in the evening with his face buried in Evan’s chest. He  _ definitely _ didn’t lay there for another hour listening to his heartbeat because that’s cheesy as hell. He did, though. And it was the best hour of his life listening to Evan’s heart because it was part of him and Jonathan loved every single fucking part that made Evan. “Good,” he finally said, “I want to be stuck with you.”

Evan grinned and planted a tiny kiss on Jonathan’s forehead, “I know.”

It was mid-afternoon when Evan came running outside to Jonathan, who was currently shoveling the driveway, with worry written all over his face. He had his cell phone gripped in his hand, which was odd because the only time Evan used his phone was when he needed to make a “business” call. That was rare in itself. It had been weeks since Jonathan had even seen the smartphone.

“Jon,” Evan panted as he trudged through the snow in his sneakers, “Wildcat has Craig.”

Jonathan dropped the shovel and stared at it sinking into the ground. That wasn’t possible. Nogla, Lui, and Craig were practically brothers. They never left each other’s side. How would Craig be isolated enough to be kidnapped? It just wasn’t plausible.

He thought back to how Wildcat acted with Craig on the roof: flirty, piggish. Wildcat had wanted Craig in more ways than one. “We have to get him back,” Jonathan said as he looked down at his calloused hands from the rough plastic of the shovel. “He’ll hurt him.”

Evan nodded from his place by the front steps, “I know. But, we have no clue where he could be. This city is too big to search for just one guy. We have to wait.”

“Wait for what?” Jonathan asked, looking up.

“Wait for him to come to us.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major filler chapter! But, some big plot stuff at least. Hope you liked. Beware the slight smut at the end ;)

Waiting felt like sin. It was agonizing. In the moments Jonathan and Evan spent lying on the bed, Wildcat could be doing terrible things to Craig. He felt unbelievably guilty. 

The bed was so warm, though. And the worse part was that he was dreading having to leave it soon. Evan had his face smushed into the back of Jonathan’s neck, breathing deeply and sometimes, when he awoke, kissing Jon’s neck before drifting off again. The sheets were so toasty and comforting with both of their bodies heating them up. It just felt nice.

And confusing. Because, this is what couples do. Lay around in bed all day, have lazy sex, sleep for hours on end. That’s exactly what him and Evan were doing, minus the sex. Jonathan began to wonder what Evan would do if he started to kiss him and touch him. In all honesty, he wanted nothing more than to try it, but the fear of rejection was too strong. The night they got their Christmas tree was just a fluke. Maybe Evan was trying to show brotherly love. A strong friendship or something. That’s what guys like him do.

He hoped that Evan had never treated anyone else the way he treated him. It was elating to feel so special to someone. To get surprise kisses on his forehead and watch movies and go shopping and cook for each other - everything that he wanted in a relationship. But, how concerned could he be about dating? Evan was a superhero, he was still the villain. And people like Evan do not fall in love with people who have worn clown makeup to rob stores and hurt their family.

It made his head throb.

Evan shifted his body closer, arms reaching out instinctively to wrap around Jonathan's waist. Jonathan looked down at his hands, smooth and clean. Then, at his own, scarred from having to punch through glass to escape and bar brawls, use tools to break into banks that sliced up his skin, from police officers that were once not so nice with handcuffs. His pale hands were littered with spindly blue veins the began at his wrist, leading all the way up to red knuckles. He was a mess. A stupid, stupid mess. A car wreck suspended for a moment. The calm before the storm. Something was bound to happen. It couldn’t always be like this.

_ This _ , Jonathan repeated in his head, a small smile stretching at his lips as he flipped over to face Evan. His closed eyes, lips parted ever so slightly, face completely relaxed. His bedhead was atrocious, but hey, Jonathan’s wasn’t any better.

“Why are you staring?” Evan asked, startling Jonathan.

“How did you know? Your eyes are closed.”

“I felt the side of my face heating up.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. It must be some weird superhero sense he could never understand. “Go back to sleep.”

Evan sighed, “M’kay.” He reached his arms out, hand slightly brushing against Jon’s stomach. “C’mere then.” 

Jonathan complied, scooting into his arms and nuzzling into his broad chest. He could hear that damn heartbeat again. So loud and booming and alive. His chest was moving up and down, up and down. It would be uncomfortable if not for the total wave of calmness and sleepiness rushing over Jonathan. He inhaled deeply, smelling the fabric of Evan’s shirt. That was his last memory, a booming heart, before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

He awoke later on to the sound yelling. Reminded of his parents nightly fights, Jonathan sat straight up immediately, the silk sheets slipping off his bare chest and pooling in his lap. He grabbed at the empty side of the bed in the darkness. No one was there.

“That’s insane, you’re insane!”

“No…”

“Yes, yes I get it. But, are you fucking kidding me? We were so worried! Jon was terrified. I felt sick to my stomach thinking that you were getting raped or some shit!”

Jonathan tuned in as best he could, but was barely picking up any of the conversation. He got up, tip-toeing towards the door in nothing but boxers. Once in the hallway, he recognized the voices. Evan and, oh god, Craig. Craig was okay, more than okay it seemed, standing in Evan’s living room.

“It was just dinner! He did nothing to me but take me to his stupid house and make me dinner!” Craig exclaimed, waving his arms in the air in obvious exasperation.

“ _ Dinner?  _ Dinner?! The man who has killed numerous people, tried killing Jon with a baseball bat and shooting us on a rooftop brought kidnapped you to take you out to  _ dinner _ ?” Evan put his hands on his hips before muttering, “I could punch you right now.”

Craig shook his head, “Not out. To his house. He told me about the killings. That was Moo, who is now six feet under, if you didn’t know already. He’s not bad, just in a bad situation. You have to believe me. There is something bigger going on here. A bigger picture we can’t see. An underground system, Evan! And your nose is too fucking high to see it!”

Jonathan decided against his better judgement to walk in at that point. He could see Evan’s cheeks turn red, hands clutch into fists, and practically could see steam rising. The last thing Craig needed was a broken jaw.

“Hey guys!” Jonathan said as he walked into the living room. 

“Oh no, not this clown,” Craig sighed.

“Ouch, that would’ve hurt if you weren’t being accused of fucking a pig,” Jonathan winked and pulled his boxers up just in case they were showing too much of his. . .

“I can still see your happy trail, babe,” Evan chuckled.

“I know it turns you on,” Jonathan laughed and then turned his attention to Craig. “So, all hostility put aside here, what’s going on, man? Are you alright? Did he hurt you? I heard something about dinner. Did he try to poison you?”

Craig pushed his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose to be able to see everyone clearer. He nervously tapped his foot and seemed to be having an extreme mental conflict with himself judging by the way his blue eyes stared intensely at the wall behind Evan, avoiding eye contact in any way possible.

Evan was intimidating, though. Jonathan remembered fighting him, arms locked behind each other’s necks in a struggle to knee one another’s stomachs. Their eyes met for a brief moment, piercing sapphire against molten gold, the intensity impossible to imagine. The owl mask gave little to the imagination, but, oh, those eyes:  A array of colors in the sunlight that could never be defined as just brown. They were so much more than eyes to Jonathan for weeks, even months after the fight. They were a look inside the Night Owl’s life and his true identity. He even got around to painting them after that. The canvas was probably destroyed after he was kicked out of his apartment. Maybe it was still there, collecting dust over the pupils, dulling the brown hues that beautifully decorated the irises. ‘

Jonathan wondered if he was just as intimidating as Evan. He was shorter, but still lean and fiesty. He could throw a punch. . .And maybe break a finger or two in the process. From the years of abuse, though, his body had grown used to it. The city was a place to fight for survival. He had plenty of scars along his back and stomach to verify that statement. They were still raised, the few on his stomach pink and lumpy from a big, bearded man with a knife six months before. The man wanted something a little more than money. “You’ve got pretty lips, show me what they can do.” When Jonathan had refused, the brute took out his switchblade. Sliced him up pretty good before Jonathan hightailed it the hell out of there.

“Well, not exactly,” Craig stated, interrupting his thoughts.

“Then what did he give you?” Jonathan asked.

“Steak and some mashed potatoes.”

Evan slicked his hand through his hair beside Jonathan, obviously becoming even more upset with the situation. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, “What does this even mean?” 

Jonathan grabbed Evan’s shoulder and patted it. He felt the man relax a little, shoulders slumping into the warmness of his hand. “I don’t know. Maybe Craig is right. Maybe there is something we’re missing here.”

“Wildcat spoke of some weird crime shit going on underground. Some drugs are involved, but mostly contracts.”

“Contracts for what?” Jonathan and Evan asked simultaneously.

“Assassinations, killings, whatever you call it. There are people hiring others to take people out. The reason Moo was on that roof wasn’t an accident. Wildcat was hired to kill him for a large sum of money. He couldn’t do it, though, couldn’t watch his friend die. So, he let clownboy over there do it for him.”

Evan shuddered, “I’ve been trying to find out the reason behind the random murders for years and years. I’ve worked with the police, detectives, spent hours trying to connect the dots. And this whole time. . .This whole time it was just all for money? No obsessed serial killer? No one person?

“There are actually twenty of them currently working on contracts right now. You’ve been their number one target for years and years, but recently it changed. Wildcat told me it’s you now, Jon,” Craig turned towards him, “There has to be a reason. Want to confess to something? You had to do something quite awful to get your name listed as number one for the highest paid contract. So fess up.”

_ Not yet. _ “I’m just concerned with how you were able to get all this information from Wildcat. It’s not like he would readily give up his whole story,” Jonathan remained calm. But, on the inside, he was a mess. His mind was in pure panic mode. He removed his hand from Evan’s shoulder so he didn’t notice it shaking.

Craig rolled his eyes, “Are you referring to some kind of sexual favor? Is that all you think about?”

“Well, I haven’t gotten laid in forever, so yeah,” Jonathan crossed his arms over his chest and tried to ignore the hot stare he got from Evan.

“He just told me. I feel bad for him, alright? I had to talk him out of sobbing fits three times at least. He gets night terrors from this shit. But, he can’t get out of it without people following him. Once someone leaves, they’re hunted until they’re dead.” Craig looked at the floor, shuffling his feet once again, “I don’t want him to die.”

Evan looked at him, consumed with sympathy. Jonathan knew why. He had once been in the same situation as Craig. Except, it involved helping a clown instead of a pig. 

Jonathan felt sympathy as well. He remembered vividly how it felt to seem stuck in a never ending cycle, feeling sick and scared to think about having to steal for the rest of your life. But, Wildcat was rich and very capable it seemed to get good food and water. Jonathan had been starving, probably a few days away from death, when Evan decided to take him home. He was penniless, Wildcat was loaded. How many contracts had he executed to become so wealthy?

“Alright,” Evan said quietly, “Alright. We have to talk to him, see if we can fix them. We need to destroy the organization. And if Wildcat is willing, he’s a good man to have on our side. Thank you, Craig.”

Once Craig had left, Evan walked towards Jonathan and pulled him into a tight hug. “I’m so scared, Jon,” he said into his ear. He was dangerously close and Jonathan regretted not putting pants on just in case an accident happened to arise for the twentieth time today. “Scared to find what I’ve been looking for for so long, scared to talk to Wildcat again, scared that you’ll be scared, too, because right now I need you to be brave for the both of us.”

Jonathan tried to talk, but couldn’t get any words out. He felt Evan’s hand run over one of his scars and lurched forward from the sensitivity of it. His body rubbed up against Evan’s, every part sliding against one another in friction, and he let out the smallest moan.

“Where’d you get those?” Evan asked, his fingertips ghosting over the scar again.

“A man tried to. . .Well, wouldn’t say rape me, but tried to make me fuck him for money.”

“Did you?” Evan looked up and met his eyes.

“Nope.”

“You said that you haven’t been laid in forever to Craig. Is that true?”

Jonathan felt his cheeks heating up, glad that another part of his body wasn’t too warm yet. “Sort of. When I said forever, I meant it literally.”

Evan’s stare intensified even more. He ran his hands up along Jonathan’s stomach, over his nipples, brushing across his neck, all the up to cup his cheeks. “You’re telling me you’re a virgin?”

Jonathan was beginning to reach out with the intentions of pulling Evan into a kiss. He stopped himself, flopped his arms by his side and balled his hands into fists instead. He tried to ignore the blood pounding in his ears. “Yeah,” he swallowed hard, “One-hundred percent virgin.”

Evan grinned widely, letting go of Jon’s face to adjust his hoodie, “Well isn’t that amazing? Made my night, actually.” 

“And why’s that?” Jonathan asked. He missed feeling those hands on his cheeks, feeling them slowly feel up his body. When they brushed over his chest, he had to stop his hips from bucking up. Maybe if he hadn’t stopped himself, something much more exciting would be taking place at this very moment.

“No reason.”

Evan was definitely toying with him. It was going to drive him up a wall at some point. Hopefully, sometime soon,Evan would be  _ pinning _ him against a wall, actually.

 

That night, when he and Evan lay in bed together, Jonathan asked about the plan for talking to Wildcat.

“Well,” Evan muttered in his half-asleep state, “In the morning we’ll pick Craig and the guys up, ask him to point out directions to his place. If he isn’t there, we’ll stay and ambush him once he comes home.”

“Good plan,” Jonathan smiled, but it soon disappeared.

“We have to stop the assassinations for good. The city’s future depends on it, man. But, that’s for tomorrow. Goodnight, Jon, give that teddy bear a kiss on the lips and pretend it’s me,” Evan chuckled and rolled over. He was snoring loudly within seconds.

Jonathan felt a little twinge in his stomach at the word “assassinations.” He knew exactly why Wildcat had attempted to beat him with a baseball bat and why Moo was intent on shooting him. There was sure to be more of them to come soon. He knew the ins and outs of the system.

After all, he was the one who used to assign the contracts.

  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

They stood at a door that looked very much like Evan’s. The house was smaller than expected. The snow dripped off the roof as it began to melt in the sunlight. It was morning time, a little after eight probably, and as Jonathan began ringing the doorbell obnoxiously, he realized what a fucking stupid idea this was.

They were quite literally at the devil’s doorstep. Wildcat was holding the knife and they were tilting their heads backward to expose their necks.

He looked back nervously at Evan, who gave him an optimistic thumbs up as the door began to slowly open. Jonathan didn’t really want to look because he sort of expected a gun in his face. Or a baseball bat.

“Well, I didn’t expect you five assholes to show up at my doorstep.”

Jonathan let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and looked up at Wildcat with wide eyes. He was a tall man, a little bit stocky, but still just an average-looking guy. A pair of wide-rimmed glasses hung low on his nose and he pushed them up just before they fell. There was something about him that was quite comforting without the grotesque pig mask on. Some sort of leader aspect in his stance that reminded Jonathan of Evan when they first met.

And of course, who was he to judge Wildcat’s past? Sure, he tried to kill him and brutally murdered some civilians, but who's to say they weren’t contracts? Out of a hundred things he thought he knew, ninety-nine of them could be untrue. Good guys can be forced to do bad things. He understood that better than anybody.

“Wildcat, sorry to wake you up. We’re here to ask you a few questions,” Craig shoved Jonathan out of the doorway. He rolled his eyes.

Wildcat’s expression softened further once Craig looked at him. “Yeah, yeah. Call me Tyler, you know that already.” Tyler turned around and disappeared into the dark house.

Evan was by Jonathan’s side quickly. They walked in together. The house inside was even plainer than the outside. The walls were all white, a lonely couch sat in the middle of the living room. Jonathan took a quick look up the stairs and saw a single door open wide.

“That must be Tyler’s bedroom,” Jonathan tugged on Evan’s sleeve and pointed up the stairs.

“Yes,” Evan whispered, “That’s where he has his evil piggy dreams of doom and world destruction.”

Tyler sighed from the front of the line, “Dipshits, I hear every word you’re saying.”

Jonathan giggled. He heard Nogla laugh, too, which was a surprise because before they left he was preaching about being completely serious. Of course, they all agreed with that. Especially Evan, but now he was the one making jokes as they walked down the hallway. He must be rubbing off on him.

Soon, they were all sitting at a table in the kitchen, awkwardly watching Tyler chat up Craig. Jonathan was able to peek outside and was stunned to see how big the backyard was. Snow was beginning to fall again, covering the many trees and making their branches sag. It was a pretty sight, seeing the ground shine like that in a place he never dreamed of finding comfort in. In fact, he thought that there would be some serious yelling and a few guns drawn in fear. But, instead, their group dynamic was working nicely. They were talking quietly amongst themselves now, having a normal conversation as if they were visiting a friend for the weekend. He sort of wished that was the situation they were in. They make a hell of a team.

“So, Tyler, I was wondering why you had Craig over a few nights ago,” Evan said. The whole room fell silent.

“Like it’s any of your business, owl? Maybe I was trying to send a message to you idiots,” Tyler leaned on the table and narrowed his eyes.

“A message?”

“Yeah, to show that I wasn’t going to try and hurt your superhero gang anymore. I’m through with the system, done with it. I’d rather be locked away for the rest of my life than go down in those damn sewers again.”

Evan was on his feet quickly, walking over to Tyler. “Sewers? System? Please elaborate.”

Tyler grinned, “Are you sure you want me to?” His eyes turned towards Jonathan.

Jonathan suddenly felt very alone and afraid. He didn’t want them to know of his dirty past. His record wasn’t clean to them now, they wouldn’t want to hear any more of the trouble he wormed his way into. It was an honest mistake, though. And an easy way to make money fast, which was all he needed to survive at the time. He wasn’t there long, but he did something terrible enough to get him at the top of the hit-list. Even above Evan, who had been number one for years. They hated him down there now. If either of them showed their faces, they’d be shot without a second thought. That’s why he had to stop Evan from trying to be the Night Owl again and charging down there. He wasn’t just a hero anymore, he was Jonathan’s friend. He couldn’t lose him because of his own past. The mistakes he made seem to loom over their heads like a storm cloud. The rain hasn’t quite come yet, but when it does, it’s going to be a hurricane.

He swallowed his pride and spoke softly, “I wasn’t a killer. I used to listen to the ones who wanted someone dead, then deliver the message to the boss, that’s all. I barely remember who I met down there.” His hands began to shake a bit when he felt Evan’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, that’s okay. It was just for the money. Do you remember the boss’s name?” Evan rubbed his shoulder.

“Brian,” Tyler answered for him. “His name is Brian.”

Jonathan tried to think back for a few moments and remember what Brian looked like, but his memory was foggy. He only could think of his last assignment: to meet with a man who wanted his wife murdered. Brian had said something about having “high hopes” for Jonathan after he returned. But, there was a pit in his stomach after hearing those words. The contract was burned that night. He found out the wife was pregnant and couldn’t bare to live with the fact that he delivered the damn message to the assassin.

That was one of their biggest rules, too. It would be considered treason if you didn’t deliver the message. It was like siding with the law, with Night Owl; embracing the good inside would only get someone like The Clown killed in the sewers. Brian was probably waiting, along with the entire system, for Jonathan to arrive. He never did. Instead, he almost fell off a skyscraper and was saved by someone he had been taught to hate.

“Brian,” Evan repeated, “Down in the sewers.”

Tyler nodded and fixed his glasses, “I was assigned to kill Jonathan. I told them you died in the shooting. Then, it was Moo, who saw you alive. He died, too. He was my next contract and I didn’t even know it. I didn’t want to even look who they assigned me to when Brian called me over. I ended up throwing the paper away, just like you did with your contract. Yours was never delivered, was it?”

Jonathan looked up, noticing Tyler watching him again. He was hesitant to tell him at first. It was his secret, after all, but Tyler had left the system. Once you get out, you’re out for good. If Tyler tried to come back, he’d be shot, too. “Yeah. The target was pregnant.”

“Brian was really sore about that one. Oh boy, he really liked you, saw the bad in you. He told all of us how you would be put in charge someday after becoming second in command. He was going to make you his successor,” Tyler shook his head and let out a small laugh, “He was sort of obsessed with you. Always had to know where you were and what you were up to. How does that make you feel, Evan?”

“Fucking pissed off because he doesn’t belong to anyone. If he’s going to be anyone’s successor, he’s going to be mine,” Evan clenched his jaw and went to say more, but snapped his mouth shut.

“Well, that’s a good idea if I ever heard one. I say we kill him before he gets to Jonathan. That’s what he’s been trying to do that this whole time, right? From what Tyler’s saying, it seems like Brian always knew when Jonathan would be around. He probably knows that he’s with Evan,” Nogla said.

 _With Evan_. If only that was possible.

“You’re right. It’s time to move. Tyler, are you coming with us?” Evan asked.

Tyler shot a look at Craig. They both smiled before Tyler answered, “Of course. Let’s do this.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is near :) Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
